


A Sapphire in the Snow

by Riocat01



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Brienne and Tormund, Game of Thrones (TV), Torienne - Fandom, briemund - Fandom, game of thrones
Genre: Alternate Ending, Battle wounds, Big giant warrior babies, Brienne Giantsbane, Brienne and Tormund destined for each other, Brienne and Tormund get married, Brienne comes to terms with Jaime leaving her, Brienne comes to terms with Jaime’s death, Brienne falls in love with Tormund, Brienne moves on, Childbirth, Essos, F/M, Jaime Lannister is alive, Jaime gets some redemption, Marriage, Oral Sex, Post Season 8-Game of Thrones, Pregnancy, Pregnant Brienne of Tarth, Sandor Clegane is alive, Sansa and Sandor are married, Sansa pregnant, Sexual Intercourse, Tarth, Tormund gets the girl, Wildling Culture & Customs, post-season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:35:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 115,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21600853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riocat01/pseuds/Riocat01
Summary: If Brienne could give Tormund a chance,  he would give her the world.Set after the events of Season 8, Brienne of Tarth and Tormund Giantsbane are sent together on a mission to secure the unification of The North. Much to her surprise, Brienne soon finds herself attracted to the Wildling she once spurned. Can Brienne open her heart to him, and take the chance to love someone again? Are there other obstacles on their path to happiness? Could an unknown presence in a faraway land tear them apart?
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Briemund - Relationship, Brienne and Tormund - Relationship, Brienne of Tarth & Tormund Giantsbane, Brienne of Tarth and Tormund Giantsbane, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark and Sandor Clegane - Relationship, Torienne - Relationship, Tormund Giantsbane & Brienne of Tarth, Tormund Giantsbane and Brienne of Tarth, Tormund Giantsbane/Brienne of Tarth, Tormund Giantsbane/Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Torrienne
Comments: 162
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Brienne walked purposefully through the passageways of the Red Keep. Her footsteps echoed off the newly chiseled marble, and recently quarried stones. She often marveled at how quickly the castle had been repaired after the destruction of the city. It had been almost a year since the Dragon Queen had burned Kings Landing. A year since Daenarys Targaryen had ravaged the royal fortress. A year since Jaime had die...

No! She forced her mind to grind to a halt. She would not think of him. She had said goodbye to Jaime Lannister months ago when she finished his page in the White Book. As she closed the cover of the aged volume, she forced that chapter in her life to come to an end. Even as she swore to leave him in her past, and as practical as she prided herself on being, there were still times when the pain he had left her would seep unbidden to the surface and render her nearly unable to breath. Last night had been one of those times. She had slept little, finding the quiet still darkness an unwelcome burden, as she fought to keep thoughts of Jaime from her mind. Brienne had spent the dark hours forcing her chest to rise and fall. Sucking in the night air pushed down the lump in her throat and filled the hole in her heart. She willed her mind to think of nothing as she paced, and clung desperately to the small shreds of dignity he had left her. Her fists balled tightly against her anger, her chest heaving for calm, Brienne spent another long dark chasm of night time fighting to keep herself from sinking into anguished misery. Racked with the memory of him, her heart was a hollow empty pit in her chest. Her very skin mocked her for the knowing of him that it remembered. Fighting the bitter despair that she knew would come, she battled the tears that stung her eyes. She had cried enough.

At last in the dwindling hours of the morning, sleep had finally claimed Brienne. Her precious rest had not lasted long. She awoke as the sun rose, gasping and yearning for him. She had dreamed again of Jaime. He had visited Brienne in her sleep many times since he left Winterfell. In the darkness the visions came, as clear as the nights they had spent together and the passion they had shared. As if he were there with her, she saw the depths of his emerald eyes, felt the strength of his arms around her, and tasted the sweetness of his kiss. Each time the dreams came Brienne relived once more the glorious love she thought they had found, and the heartache of waking to find him gone as she jolted from her sleep, her body still tingling with the memory of him. She feared she would never truly be able to live a life without him.

It had been hard at first, living and working in the very place where Jaime had died. Brienne had not been able to drive away the melancholy when she arrived to assume her duties as Lord Commander of the King’s Guard. She expected his presence to haunt every corner of the behemoth structure. She still could not force herself to venture to the lower levels of the Keep, unwilling to look upon the very spot where he had been found, clinging to Cersei. Brienne was uncertain if part of her had hoped there would be some sort of presence she might feel of him, a reminder of their feelings for each other, a connection, a strength to take from the utter sadness of it all. She chided herself for her silliness when she realized that she felt nothing of him here, and busied herself with her duties.

It was her duties that had kept Brienne so busy for most of the day, and that quickened her steps now. King Bran had requested her presence in his throne room. Brienne could not help but wonder what the reasons were behind her summons. She had heard that there were those who might be eager to take advantage of a weakened Westeros and a fresh boy king to further their own interests. It seemed there would always be threats to the kingdom. Her stomach tightened at the thought. The North would be the weakest place to strike should a stronghold be sought by a foreign force, or even a domestic one. Although the Army of the Dead and the Night King had been defeated, the cost had been great. Many Northern houses had paid dearly during the battle. While others still refused to pay tribute to their true queen, Sansa Stark. Some even swore that, Stark or not, they would never bend the knee to a woman. The months in Kings Landing had flown busily by, and it was easy to consume herself with her new position. She still worried about events in the North. Brienne pondered what her future might hold as she slowed her stride upon entering the King’s throne room. Bran sensed her before he saw her. He greeted her almost before she had crossed the threshold of the vast hall.

“Ser Brienne.” Bran nodded. “Please, come closer.” He motioned her toward him.

Brienne covered the distance from the entrance to the throne in short order, noticing with pride how Ser Podrick stood at the ready by the King’s side. He nodded a smile to her as she approached. She lowered her head and kneeled with the utmost reverence upon reaching Bran. She was still at a loss as to what it was King Bran could need of her. However, she was eager to do anything she could for him.

“You sent for me? Your Grace?” She inquired.

Bran motioned for her to rise. She did so, but stood at attention as he continued. “No doubt you are wondering why I have asked for you.” He answered. Brienne smiled, a bit embarrassed, as if he had heard what was echoing through her mind. She always got the impression that he knew the thoughts of others. Perhaps that was another part of being the Three Eyed Raven.

“Yes. Your Grace.” Brienne confirmed. “How may I be of service to you?”

Bran was thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. “I would ask for your service to my sister, The Queen in the North.”

Brienne was suddenly concerned. Her senses alert as if Sansa were standing in the very room with her. “Is Queen Sansa is danger, Your Grace?” She asked urgently, eager to provide any help needed.

“Not presently.” Bran reported. “However, I fear that the disunity which remains in the North could be of greater threat in the future than expected.” He had obviously seen something in the shadows of time that worried him.

“I will do anything that I can to help.” Brienne vowed.

Bran nodded, knowingly. He knew she would not refuse his plea to aid Sansa. “You have served the Stark’s with valor.” He asserted. “You have again demonstrated your skill and principles in assembling and training my Kingsguard.”

“It has been my privilege, Your Grace.” Brienne accepted the compliment humbly.

A shadow of regret crossed King Bran’s angular features as he continued. “I could not have asked for any better guardian. It is with a heavy heart that I must ask you to relinquish those duties.”

Brienne felt her stomach drop, and her knees go weak. She had always dreamed of such a position, of carrying those responsibilities on her shoulders. She felt that her command was the very role for which she had been born. She was good at it. She loved it. After all that she had been through, she needed it.

She felt the fear well up in her. Without her duties to consume her, what would she do when the memories, and painful emotions come flooding back? If she had nothing to distract her from her own mind, and from him, she feared the thoughts of Jaime would consume her. Yet, the worst thought of all was wondering if somehow she had disappointed the Starks.

“Have I done something to displease you, Your Grace?” She asked quietly and confused. “I assure you, any oversight on my part was completely unintentional.”

Bran looked at her compassionately. He was afraid she would misunderstand. “Ser Brienne. You are more skilled, stronger, and more honorable than any other knight in the Realm. My request has nothing to with any failure on your part. Please believe that you have more than lived up to all expectations that were placed upon you. More so, in fact.” The furrow between Brienne’s brows only deepened, and her bewilderment grew.

Bran could not allow Brienne to think her performance anything but exemplary. He attempted to diffuse the sense of defeat he sensed in her. “The truth is that I am in desperate need of you expertise elsewhere.” Brienne’s eyes bore into him as she followed his every word. “I must call upon you to further my sister’s interests in The North and Beyond.”

“Beyond?” Brienne repeated.

“Yes.” Bran confirmed. “Your actions, and travels in ensuring Stark rule in the North may very well take you Beyond the Wall. I have also been in contact with my cousin Jon Snow. He has already begun to work toward the same end.”

Brienne was slowly realizing that what the King was asking of her was indeed of far greater importance than being his guard. As much as she truly relished her work in his Kingsguard, and as much fulfillment as she had found, she understood that the opportunity Bran was giving her was one she must not refuse. Suddenly, there was nothing she wanted more than to undertake this new challenge. She had to first make sure that King Bran would be protected.

As her excitement grew, so to did her courage. “May I make one request of my own, Your Grace?” Brienne ventured.

“Anything.” Bran answered.

“If I am to leave Kings Landing, and set journey upon the mission you propose, I must first ensure that your Kingsguard will be led by the most capable knight in the Kingdom.” Her earnest concern touched King Bran. “If it please you, Your Grace, May I recommend Ser Podrick Payne to assume the duties as Lord Commander of your Kingsguard?” She gave Pod a proud smile, and hoped King Bran would see the logic in her request.

He did indeed. A wide smile grew on his face. “I can think of no more suitable replacement.” King Bran agreed. “Consider it done.” Brienne bowed her head in gratitude.

Ser Podrick stood dumbfounded beside the king. He knew Brienne considered him a knight of advanced skill, or she would never have allowed his current position of Shield to the King. This, however, was more than he dared hope for. He was humbled at her confidence in him, and could only stare at her, the shock evident on his face. Brienne merely smile proudly at him.

“Ser Brienne.” The King called attention back to the matters at hand. “Preparations have been made for your departure to Winterfell in two days. Will be enough time to settle your affairs?” He inquired.

Brienne nodded eagerly. “It will, Your Grace.” She confirmed. Apparently Bran had been certain she would accept.

Bran nodded and then turned toward Pod. “Ser Podrick?” He asked. “Will that be adequate time for you to choose a successor for you current position?”

Podrick smiled. “Yes, Your Grace.” He agreed, still not believing what had happened.

“Very well. It is settled.” Bran decreed, maneuvering his wheeled chair to leave the throne room. Pod fell in step behind him, taking the handles, and awaiting further directions.

“I am grateful to know that Queen Sansa...and The North will be in your capable hands.” Bran smiled at Brienne, and at that he motioned for Pod to usher him from the room and onto his next order of business. Brienne was left to ponder the events of the last few moments, and the possibilities to come. She had thought her destiny was to be in Kings Landing. Perhaps she had been wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne makes a heart wrenching sacrifice, and must say her goodbyes in Kings Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some diehard Brienne fans will question her sacrifice in this chapter, but please be patient. Remember this a Briemund fic.

Jamie stood silently watching her. In his polished armor he looked every bit the lion his named declared, yet his face was so sullen it sent a chill down Brienne’s spine. Behind him, Kings Landing lay in a smoldering ruin. His deep green pleading eyes pierced her soul. He mouthed her name, but she could not hear his voice. Brienne longed to reach out, to feel him. She stretched out a trembling hand to touch his face. She tried with all of her might, but the distance between them only grew with each attempt. Suddenly, he began to fade from her view. She screamed his name. It was like watching him leave her and being powerless to stop it all over again. As he vanished, his image was replaced by Oathkeeper. Straight and strong, the sword with which Jaime had gifted Brienne still connected them. Her Valerian steel weapon shone and glistened. A powerful testament to the bond they had shared. Her eyes grew wide with wonder as the blade seemed to take on a life of its own. Then, in the silence as Jaime Lannister disappeared completely from her view, a gentle snow began to fall.

Brienne bolted upright from her slumber. Her lungs, starved for breath, gasped in oxygen but it burned them with its purity. Drenched with sweat. Her chest heaving. Tears streaming down her face. Brienne blinked with disbelief at the clarity that filled her mind. If she were ever to move on, she now understood what it was she needed to do.  
—————————————————————————  
Lord Tyrion sat pensively at his desk in the modest study that had been repaired for him in the Tower of the Hand. Although he was enjoying his work for King Bran immensely, and was honored by his new position, he was still greatly troubled by the events of the recent past. He had come to terms with the madness to which his Queen, Daenarys Targaryen, had succumbed. In a strange way, he could not blame her. He doubted many could have held long to their sanity after having lived the life she had. He did not even hold Jon Snow culpable for her death. He knew how much the young man had loved her, and how taking her life had scarred him. Perhaps it had been a necessary wrong.

Still, the memory of finding Jaime and Cersei in the rubble continued to haunt his dreams. He grieved for his sister, and lamented the monster she had become. Through an objective eye, Tyrion understood that Cersei’s actions in life had earned her that end a thousand times over, but not Jaime. The fate of his beloved brother ate at Tyrion. The worst part was knowing the truth which he could not tell to anyone. Each time he looked at Brienne his heart ached for her. He fought himself daily not to reveal what he knew. A truth which could change her life forever. Although every part of him wanted to divulge the fateful knowledge he carried, Tyrion could not break his word. Sadly, he turned his face to the east and lost himself in thought.

After some time, a soft tapping at his door pulled Tyrion from his thoughts. “Enter.” He called, standing.

The heavy paneled door swung inward, and Ser Brienne walked into his office, a nervous expression on her face.

“Ser Brienne.” Tyrion brightened. “Saying your goodbyes?” He smiled.

“Well...Yes.” Brienne stammered. She would, of course, wish to bid Lord Tyrion farewell before embarking on her journey North. That was, however, not the reason she had sought him out this day.

“It seems our King has the utmost confidence in you.” Tyrion said, almost proudly.

Brienne nodded. “It appears so.” She’s answered shyly. “I shall do my best not to disappoint him.”

“I am sure you will not.” Tyrion praised. He remembered how valiantly Brienne had defended Winterfell. He was glad Sansa would have her close by. Although their marriage had been anulled, he cherished his friendship with The Queen in the North, and knew that Brienne would do anything to ensure her safety and security. It was then that Tyrion noticed the large thin parcel in Brienne’s arms. It was carefully wrapped in the finest silk.

“What is that you carry?” He asked her curiously. She was holding it, as one would a gift.

Brienne looked timid, she was unsure where to begin. She held out the package. “I...,” She began, her voice cracking. “I wish to return this to your family.” She held it out for Tyrion to take from her.

Tyrion looked puzzled. Taking the unknown item from her, the weight of it almost threw him off balance. He laid it carefully on the desk. He removed the silk that covered it with the utmost care, and gasped as he realized it was Oathkeeper, the sword Jaime had gifted to Brienne.

“I do not understand.” Tyrion inquired, his brow furrowed deeply, as he noticed the strong but plain sword she now wore at her side. “My brother wished you to have it. He meant for it to be yours..always.” It was obvious that Jaime had confided his feelings for Brienne to his brother.

Brienne fought tears at Tyrion’s choice of words. ‘Always.’ She remembered how Jaime had said the same when she had tried to return Oathkeeper to him. ‘It is yours. It will always be yours.’ Jaime's voice echoed so perfectly in her mind.

Tyrion handled the weapon as if it were made of glass, removing it from the fine leather scabbard that surrounded it, and laying it once more on the table. It seemed almost disrespectful for him to touch it. He stood quietly, looking down at the flawless Valerian steel. Oathkeeper was like another appendage to Brienne. He could only imagine the agony that relinquishing her weapon was causing her. He knew that Jaime’s desertion had wounded Brienne deeply. He had never dreamed just how much.

Tyrion looked back reverently at Brienne. “This is your weapon, Ser Brienne.” He said in a low tone. “I cannot accept it.”

Brienne sighed heavily, fighting the lump in her throat. It was killing her to give up Oathkeeper, but she knew she had to. “It is Lannister steel. It should be yours.”

The shadow of a sarcastic smile crossed Tyrion’s face. “It isn’t exactly scaled for my hand.” Tyrion quipped.

Brienne grinned slightly. “Perhaps you could have it reworked, or present it to someone in your family you feel would be worthy.” She suggested. She tried not to think of someone else wielding her sword.

“There is no one else worthy of it. Only you. It belongs to you.” Tyrion said with certainty. He turned to her, studying Brienne intently. His heart broke for her as he saw the pain in her deep blue eyes. She did not want to do this, she needed to. If only there was something he could say to change her mind. “Jaime loved you.” He reminded her. “I know he did. Giving you this sword was the only way he could show you.”

Brienne was instantly shy. She did not want to talk about the feelings she had for Jaime, or whatever he may have had for her. None of that mattered now. She wished Tyrion would just take the sword and let her go. This was difficult enough. “Please.” She nearly begged. “I cannot keep it.”

Tyrion balked once more at taking possession of the fine weapon. He could only imagine how Jaime’s heart would shatter to know that Oathkeeper no longer protected Brienne. As his gaze beseeched her to reconsider, Tyrion could read the depths of Brienne’s own heartbreak upon her face. Tyrion realized that Brienne was no longer sure that Jaime had loved her. He could not blame her. What was she to think? They had shared so much. Then he was gone. Returned to another. Anyone would be left reeling and questioning. Tyrion felt the pit in his stomach grow deeper when he thought that he could put an end to this. With one word he could reveal the truth he knew. He feared that a few more moments in the presence of Brienne’s sad eyes and he would do just that. However, he himself had sworn an oath. One that he could not betray.

“You do not have to do this.” Tyrion declared to her. “Jaime meant for you to keep it, Forever. Like his heart.” Tyrion felt awkward to voice what he knew about Brienne’s relationship with his brother, but he could not bear to see her in such pain. 

Brienne straightened, her expression hardened as she tried to mask the bitterness she wanted desperately to put far from herself. “Forgive me, Lord Tyrion, but you’re brother made it quite clear where is heart lay.” She said dryly, lifting her chin resolutely. It took all of Brienne’s strength to keep the anger from her tone. She had spent far too much time wallowing in her heartbreak, and had no intention of allowing the bitterness of Jaime’s betrayal to shadow anymore of her life. She told herself that was the course she plotted, but still she knew it would be far from easy. 

Tyrion shook his head trying to dissuade her from her mistaken belief. “Ser Brienne.” He began. “Jaime...” He felt a greater sense of urgency at declaring his brother’s heart than he would have his own. 

She could not let him continue, and spoke up forcefully. “The truth is, that he would have rather died with Cersei than live with me.” Brienne’s voice broke as finished, and she looked to the floor to hide the tears which threatened to burst forth at any moment. Her nails dug into her palm and she chastised herself for failing her self-promised intentions so quickly.

Tyrion’s resolve fell. It was clear that nothing he could say would change Brienne’s mind. He could scarcely fathom the pain through which she lad lived during the past year. He felt his anger at his brother seething. Jaime’s decision had destroyed him, but it had also cast a deep and painful sorrow over Brienne’s life. Suddenly, Tyrion understood what was driving her attempt to free herself from Jaime’s memory. If she held onto him any longer, she may very well lose herself as well. Tyrion could longer try to change her mind.

“I understand.” He conceded, lowering his head. “But, you have made this sword your own.” He reached out and touched the polished steel. “There is no reason for you to relinquish it.” He praised.

Brienne appreciated his concern. She gave a grateful nod, and answered him earnestly. “If I am ever to move on...I cannot do so tied to a... dead man.” Her voice faltered and she trailed off. She had not wished to sound so harsh, and hoped Lord Tyrion would not take offense at her description of his brother. He did not seem to as he considered her words.

Tyrion lowered his eyes respectfully to signify her great sacrifice. “Very well. I understand.” He agreed. “Oathkeeper will be safe with me. It’s possession is a responsibility which I will never take lightly.” He did not tell her that he had no intention of giving it to anyone else. He would store it away, until he may be able to return it to its rightful owner someday.

“Thank you, My Lord.” Brienne acknowledged, straightening to attention.

They stood in an awkward reticence for a few moments more until Tyrion broke the silence. “Gods Speed on your journey then, Ser Brienne.” He wished. “Please give Queen Sansa my regards.”

Brienne nodded. “I will, My Lord.” She assured him.

Tyrion nodded back, and cleared his throat. Brienne turned to leave but was stopped as she opened the door by Tyrion’s call. “My Lady.” She was halfway across the threshold and had to step back slightly into the room to attend to his words.

Tyrion had walked forward in order to address her. “Jaime did love you.” He said.

Brienne stood in the doorway, as still as a statue. Unable even to breath. Tyrion continued the confession of his brother’s true feelings. “Jaime was always under her power,...Cersei’s. She controlled him from the moment they were born, and he was too weak to fight her.”

Brienne’s eyes studied the floor. She felt somehow as though she should not be hearing this, but some locked away place inside her reveled in his words.

“He was her puppet,” Tyrion continued, expressing the deepest sentiments of Jaime’s heart that he was not there to tell Brienne himself. “My brother was powerless against our sister’s evil manipulation.” His gaze also found the floorboards as he thought of Jaime. “I am glad he found you. You gave him the kind of selfless affection he had never known. The kind he deserved.”

Tyrion paused. Then he looked sadly at Brienne, his eyes boring into hers, pleading silently for her to understand. “He should have stayed with you. He wanted to, I know he did. He would have if he could have. I know that Jaime felt he did not deserve you, but of his love for you...I am certain.” He nodded.

Brienne fought the tears that stung her eyes. She looked back at him with a pained expression. Perhaps somewhere, deep within herself she always knew it could have ended no other way. There had always been something pulling Jaime away from her. She doubted that there could have been anything she could have done to really keep him. Even if he had stayed, Cersei would have always stood between them.

“My brother really always was the stupidest Lannister.” Tyrion declared, inferring that Jaime had made the wrong choice. He hoped she understood the meaning behind his words. She did. Brienne stood in the door, her lips pursed thoughtfully, gratitude in her eyes. Finally she tilted her head. “Lord Tyrion.” She said in farewell, and then closed the door behind her.  
—————————————————————————

Brienne arose early the morning of her departure. She triple checked her supplies, ensured the wellness of her horse, and rearranged her saddlebags for the tenth time. She thought it would be easier if she kept herself busy. Of all her goodbyes, there had been one she was avoiding. One she did not want to voice. Each time she envisioned it, each time she tried, Brienne would feel a lump in her throat choking her until she feared she could not speak. So she took a deep breath and busied herself with other things. She knew it could not be avoided much longer.

As she laced the leather closure on the pack that hung over her mount’s haunches Brienne heard the rustling of footstep behind her and turned on the alert as her life of battle had ingrained in her, only to see the smiling sentimental face of Ser Podrick.

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” He teased, smiling.

Brienne laughed. She could tell Pod was dreading their farewell as much as she was. “Of course not.” She answered warmly.

“You’ve been quite busy, preparing for your journey.” Pod nodded, understandingly.

“Yes. I have.” Brienne admitted. She chose not to say, that many of her tasks were self imposed in an effort to keep herself from admitting how nervous she was.

“I...I wanted to thank you for suggesting that I take over for you as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.” Pod said humbly, almost unable to meet her gaze.

“You earned it.” Brienne reassured him, taking her horse’s reins and guiding her mount toward the pathway that led to the King’s Road. She motioned for Pod to follow. Somehow she felt it would be easier to say goodbye as they were moving.

Once underway Brienne continued. “You are a knight of remarkable skill, Podrick .” She praised. “Remember that. You have impressive natural instincts. Trust yourself.” She felt as though there were a million things she needed to tell him, and so little time, although she did not know why.

“I have had the best teacher.” Pod smiled at her as they strolled.

Brienne looked wistful, remembering all the times they had shared. Then she laughed a little at the images from the past swirled in her head.

“What?” Pod joined in her laughter, unsure why she was chuckling.

Brienne’s laugh turned into as close to a giggle as she would admit to. “You could barely ride a horse when you first began to squire for me.” She teased.

Pod groaned. “I was nervous.”

Brienne nodded. “Very nervous.” She affirmed, her eyes flashing with glee.

Before they realized it, they had reached the King’s Road. Yet neither were ready to say goodbye. The stood uncomfortably, a thousand thoughts unvoiced.

It was Brienne who broke the silence. “You proved yourself At Winterfell, Podrick.” She reminded him. “That is why King Bran chose you to be his Shield. You will do an equally exemplary job in his Kingsguard. I am certain of that.” The pride in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Thank you.” Pod quietly acknowledged, studying the ground too intently.

“Ser Brienne.” Pod finally spoke. “It has been the greatest honor serving with you.” He said, forcing down the lump in his throat. “I owe you a debt I can never repay.” He did not tell Brienne that for some reason, he felt that she would not be returning to Kings Landing.

Brienne smiled a bit confused. “Pod. You act like you’ll never see me again.” The look on Podrick’s face told Brienne that he feared exactly that.

“Listen. I will return in a few months at the most.” She smiled. “Then, I’ll be wanting my post back.” She warned jokingly.

“Absolutely.” Pod nodded, trying to push down his certainty that she would not be able to keep her part of that bargain.

“Then this is not Goodbye.” Brienne swore. “I will see you in a few months.” She vowed as she mounted her horse.

“Until then.” Pod agreed smiling. He held Brienne’s horse steady by the bit while she climbed astride, and then stepped back.

Brienne moved away, smiling at him. Pod watched as she walked the horse slowly along the King’s Road. He would watch his mentor depart until he could no longer see her. Just before she crested the small hill that would take her from city and out of site, Brienne turned and gave a Podrick a hopeful wave. He returned her enthusiasm with a nod and a wave of his own. Continuing along the path, Brienne caught her last glimpse of Kings Landing out of the corner of her eye as she turned. She tried not to give too much heed to the notion that ran through her mind as her eyes returned to the road. For some reason, she felt that she would never see Kings Landing again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Winterfell, Brienne is determined not to allow the past to decide her future. However, there is one person from her past who wants to be a large part of that future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tormund finally makes his appearance.  
> Also, I had to get my Sansan in here.

Brienne sat astride her mount atop the hill that overlooked Winterfell. Even traveling with the utmost urgency, it had taken several weeks for her to arrive. The fortress was bustling with activity. To one who did not know better, it seemed as though nothing had ever happened there. Brienne did know better. Her mind traveled back to the battle. She saw once again the trenches ablaze and being overtaken by the army of the dead. She remembered all those who had been lost, and the price The North had paid. Brienne could almost feel Jaime beside her when she recalled standing together with him and fighting as one.

She had hoped returning to Winterfell would not bring up other unwanted memories, but it did. Brienne felt the familiar emptiness as she recalled Jaime in this place with her. She had vouched for him on her honor, and he had made her proud. She had given him her heart, as well as her body. She had thought her future would be shared with him, but he had left her. Now looking over the site of her greatest triumph and her greatest defeat, Brienne swore to herself that she would not allow Jaime’s memory, in the last place she had seen him, to torture her any longer. She wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand, and swallowed the pain. There was work to be done, and she had been entrusted with it. She would not let Queen Sansa down.

Brienne smiled to herself when she thought of Sansa, yet her grin was tinged with concern that pulled at the corners of her mouth. King Bran had been worried about the loyalty some bannermen held for his sister. A divided North was not an aggravation the young queen needed right now. Brienne’s memories traveled once more to the last few weeks after the battle that she had spent at Winterfell as Queen Sansa’s Sworn Shield. It was still with disbelief that she remembered the day a half dead traveler had stumbled up to the gates, his face covered with a worn filthy cloak. He had demanded to see the queen and had the collapsed as if reaching Winterfell had been his entire life’s goal. It was Sandor Clegane, apparently returned from the dead.

Sansa had insisted he be taken to bed and nursed back to health in her own royal chambers. She refused to leave his side while his strength slowly returned to him. When Clegane could speak again, he had told the queen of the battle with his brother, The Mountain, and of falling from the Keep tower through the flames and into an underground canal that ran beneath the city. His brother had been impaled and burned to death in the descent. Sandor had landed in the subterranean passageway filled with water from the sea, and had survived to make his way back to his Queen. When he could stand, he and Queen Sansa were married within a fortnight. They had loved each other for years, and were finally given their happy ending. A pang to jealously ran through Brienne as she questioned why it could not have been Jaime who had survived the destruction to return to her at Winterfell. She forced the idea down as soon as it formed in her mind, and chastised herself for her selfishness.

Her proud smile grew as she thought of how bold and strong Sansa had become. The Queen had shocked her Northern bannermen when she declared that she would remain Stark, officially, as monarch only and that in the eyes of the old gods and the new she would take her husband’s name as Lady Clegane. Her scandal deepened further as she added that their children would carry their father’s name, and would wear Stark only as their duties required. It was clear that Clegane did not care by which name his wife or their future offspring would be addressed, but Sansa remained resolute. She would not take her husband’s children nor his legacy from him. Sansa forced the northern hand when she told them that if they did not agree with her wishes, they could remove her from the throne that day, and choose someone they thought more suitable. They did nothing, and she remained Queen. It seemed there was something prophetic in her words when a few months later it was announced that she was expecting her first child. Brienne had by then, already accepted the honor of assuming the duties of Lord Commander in King Bran’s Kingsguard, and was forming her legion at the Red Keep in Kings Landing. Had Clegane not been there to assume the role of Queen Sansa’s Sworn Shield, Brienne would never have left her side. Now, the Queen in the North had further need of her, and Brienne was anxious to begin her duties. Spurring her horse toward Winterfell, she swore to leave bitter memories in the past and focus on the future.  
—————————————————  
Brienne rode up to the gates of Winterfell, and straight through. Some who knew and remembered her, acknowledging greetings to her. She had spent so much time here protecting the Stark girls that she felt as though she belonged here, oddly at peace. Brienne felt at home in the North, somehow. Almost as if wherever else in the world she found herself, something was always calling her back here. She was proud that she could once more help Queen Sansa make the North a strong realm.

Brienne nearly jump from her mount as she reigned the horse to a stop in the courtyard, handing the leather leads to a stableboy. She was eager to begin her duties. The cold air invigorated her and smelled of snow as she breathed it in deeply. It was good to have something new to fill her thoughts. She very much wanted to greet Queen Sansa, and begin preparations for her journey.

Apparently, someone had informed the queen of her arrival. As Brienne turned to survey the activity in the castle’s inner yard Sansa emerged from the doors that led to Winterfell‘s Great Hall. The Queen strode carefully and deliberately over to her. Sansa wore a thick fur cloak, open in the front, and Brienne noticed that the reports of the Queen’s pregnancy were indeed true, and Sansa was displaying it proudly. The Queen’s Sworn Shield and husband, the seemingly resurrected Sandor Clegane, followed protectively behind his Lady ready to catch her at the first sign of slipping on the ice that covered the courtyard.

“Ser Brienne!” Queen Sansa called even before reaching her former Shield, her eyes gleaming with delight at seeing her.

Brienne quickly covered the distance between them with her long stride, and kneeled dutifully in front of The Queen in the North. “Your Grace.” She acknowledged, returning the Queen’s excited smile.

“Oh please, do stand.” Sansa requested, gesturing for Brienne to rise. “I trust your journey was uneventful.” She smiled.

“Yes. Your Grace.” Brienne nodded happily. “I cannot complain.”

“Then let us go inside, and warm you up.” Sansa offered. “We have much to discuss. She seemed hurried to get Brienne out of the courtyard. Brienne assumed that the chilled weather was making the queen uncomfortable in her condition.

“Absolutely. By all means.” Brienne concurred.

“Very well.” Sansa grinned. This time taking Clegane’s outstretched arm as she turned. They walked back to the Great Hall with Brienne falling in step behind them.

The Hall was warm and inviting. The recollection of the festivities there following the battle flashed in Brienne’s mind as she entered. It was yet another memory that she stuffed down into her gut before it had a chance to fully form. She could not allow herself to think of all it meant. Instead she decided to redirect her energies to focus on the work to be done.

“King Bran said you are in need of my assistance here in the North.” Brienne questioned as Sansa removed her cloak and returned to her throne by the fire. Brienne stood at attention before her while Sandor Clegane took his place by the Queen’s side.

Sansa took a deep breath before beginning to explain. She wore a pensive look as she began. “That is true. I fear the North is not as unified as we believed. There are those who do not support Stark rule.” She informed Brienne. Sandor coughed disdainfully from behind her. Sansa cast a lovingly calming glance over her shoulder at him, and clarified her words. “They do not support my rule.”

“But they all chose you, and crowned you Queen in the North, Your Grace. I do not understand.” Brienne looked alarmed.

“Not all of them.” Sansa lamented. “Especially now that I have openly married, and shall soon bring forth an heir who will wear my husband’s name.” She unconsciously rested her hand over her growing waistline, her gesture including the worry her words did not.

Sandor bristled beside her. Taking a step closer, he seemed to be trying to form an actual shield around her. He turned to her. “Any that try to come near you, Little Bird, will have me to deal with!” He vowed, grasping her chair. His other hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. He was ready to fight to the death to protect his wife and unborn child.

Sansa reached up, and placed a gentle hand a top his, gazing at him affectionately. “I know, My Love.” Sansa smiled warmly. “Perhaps, with Brienne’s help, it will not come to that.”

“I will do anything you ask of me.” Brienne said. “I swore an oath to Lady Catelyn long ago to protect you.” She reminded Sansa. “I have not forgotten that, nor foresaken it.”

Sansa nodded gratefully. “Your word has always been your bond.” She acknowledged. “I know that you would walk through the Hells for the Starks...and have. What I am proposing may involve more than just some dissatisfied old men. I want you to know exactly to what you are agreeing.”

“I was not aware the danger to your rule was that grave.” Brienne said, worried.

“It is not simply a few disgruntled houses in the North, that pose a threat.” Sansa glowered. “We have received word that there may be factions in Essos who would seek to exploit our weakness, and possibly gain a stronghold to Westeros through the North.” Her face clouded with fear.

“An invasion?” Brienne finished Sansa’s thought for her. The dread and worry on her face mirroring the Queen’s.

“I pray it will not come to that.” Sansa breathed. “You can see how imperative it is that the North present a united front right now.”

“Absolutely.” Brienne agreed. “You can count on me, Your Grace.” She vowed. “I shall not return until I ensure the unity of the North, and your safety.”

Sansa’s face brightened with relief. “That is why I asked Bran to send you. I would trust no other.” Brienne lowered her head reverently at the praise.

Bringing her eyes up once again to meet Sansa’s, Brienne remembered more of what she had learned from King Bran. “The King said that Jon Snow was also working toward unification. Will he be accompanying me on this mission?” She asked.

Sansa breathed deeply once more, speaking slowly, almost as if she were choosing her words carefully. Brienne could have sworn she saw a disapproving glance pass across Clegane’s face. Sansa continued without acknowledging her husband’s uneasiness. “Jon has been working tirelessly to gain allies for our cause beyond The Wall. A United North,...the Whole North, is in the best interests of the Free Folk as well.”

Brienne agreed. “A show of strength.” She confirmed.

“Exactly.” Sansa said, relieved that Brienne’s expertise was already serving her well. “Jon is here now, but will be returning beyond The Wall in a few days to further negotiations there. He has chosen a delegate to stand in his place as I have.”

Brienne nodded at the practicality of the decision. “Is it anyone with whom I might be acquainted?” Brienne asked.

Before Sansa could answer there was a loud crash at the rear of the Great Hall as the exterior doors swung open and banged against the wall.

“Where is she?” A familiar booming voice yelled.

Sansa squirmed. She had not wanted Brienne to discover the identity of her traveling companion this way. She tried to look comforting and gave Brienne her best, ‘It Will Be Fine,’ smile.

Brienne did not need to turn around to recognize the boisterous tone of the voice’s owner. It was unmistakable. Her eyes went wide, and she looked as though she had been punched in the gut. Brienne wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. The dread in her tone was obvious as she beseeched her monarch. “Oh, Your Grace.” She cringed. “Oh, Please, No.”

Sandor Clegane snickered as Sansa smiled sheepishly, and whispered. “He really is an honorable man.” She tried to appease Brienne. “Jon thinks the world of him, and so do the Free Folk. The situation concerns him too.”

Brienne’s expression was one of disbelief, and she looked sick as she turned and found herself directly in the adoring gaze of Tormund Giantsbane. Surely Queen Sansa was not serious. However, she had known few moments when Sansa Stark was anything but serious. Months on the road, traveling with...him? Brienne could almost feel his irritating flirtatious leers burning holes in her. Sure, he was always kind to her, and she knew he presented no threat. In fact, he would probably be more protective of her than anyone else. It was his unguarded manner that she dreaded, and the fact that she knew he had feelings for her. At least he had at one time. The last time she had traveled alone with a man, who was not Pod of course, it had been Jaime. At the very least, she had no interested in going through anything like that again.

Brienne stood unmoving, and finally Tormund was able to take in the full magesty of her. For a moment he simply stared at her like she was a goddess and his only wish was to worship at her feet. Jon had told him that Brienne would be here. That she was Queen Sansa’s choice to undertake the mission on which they were being sent. Now he stood face to face with the woman of his dreams.

Tormund had tried to forget Brienne of Tarth. What else could he do? She had made her choice, and it had not been him. He had heard what the Kingkiller had done to her, and hated him for it. If he had been given the chance, he would have challenged the Lannister pretty boy for Brienne’s honor. Tormund was certain he would have won. He would have beaten the lion to a bloody pulp, forced him to apologize to his goddess, and then would have slit his unworthy throat and claimed Brienne for his own. Unfortunately he did not get the chance. Lannister had hightailed it into the night like the coward he was, and Jon’s Dragon Queen had reaped the revenge Tormund himself had wanted. Upon hearing of the betrayal she suffered, he had searched for Brienne at Winterfell but could not find her. Perhaps it had been better that way. What could he have said then to ease her pain...or his?

Now she was here. They were together again. She was as beautiful as the first moment he had ever laid eyes on her, when he had first seen her astride her horse at Castle Black. His legs had gone to jelly beneath him and his breath had froze in his lungs just like it did now. Tormund stared at Brienne across the vast room. All boasting and brevity left him. Every ounce of adoration that he had ever felt for her came rushing back into his heart, into his soul. He wanted to saunter up to her. To turn on the charm, and tell her he knew she would be back with a fiendishly seductive smile. However, that had not worked for him the last time. Alright, if he had to he would court her this time like they did in the south, with foolish coyness, and mannerly deceptions. He would play the games she knew, instead of wearing his feelings openly in the ways of his people. Besides, Jon had warned him to be on his best behavior. He had to. This time he would not, could not, let her go. He would win her heart, or die trying.

Tormund could only move when Jon shoved him forward. He felt Snow’s boney elbow dig into his bicep through the layers of skins he wore. “Close your mouth.” Jon ordered. He thought he complied.

The two wild looking northmen made their way across the cold stone floor to their respective queens. Jon to his monarch, and Tormund to the ruler of his heart. Brienne simply stared in disbelief and what could only be described as dread. They bowed respectfully, Tormund somehow never taking his eyes off Brienne.

“I trust all is ready for your departure.” Queen Sansa asked them.

“It is, Your Grace.” Jon answered.

“And when, do you expect to leave to begin meeting with the houses?” She continued.

“Tomorrow.” Tormund replied. “If Lady Bri...If Ser Brienne will be ready.” He gave Brienne a thoughtful glance.

“I will.” Brienne confirmed. She was shocked by Tormund’s cordial demeanor. She had expected a tasteless comment, or at least an overly familiar leer.

“Very well.” The Queen agreed. “I am sure Ser Brienne will want to get some rest this evening, before embarking on the journey.” She motioned for a servant girl who was busy sweeping the hearth.

“Please show Ser Brienne to her chambers, and then see that her things are brought there. Have a bath drawn and dinner sent for her.” Sansa commanded with a caring smile.

“Yes, Your Grace. Right Away.” The girl answered sweetly and stepped back to wait for Brienne.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Brienne smiled. “I am quite tired. A rest would be nice before setting out tomorrow.” She bowed her head and then followed the servant girl from the hall, but not before looking back to watch Tormund watching her depart.  
————————————————————  
Brienne was relieved to reach her chambers. They were spacious, warm, and comfortable. They offered a welcome respite from her frigid journey, and the crowded inns where she had sheltered along the King’s Road, at least for one night. She needed quiet and solitude. Her thoughts were reeling. Why had the Queen not informed her of her traveling companion? Sansa should have known that it would not have changed her answer, but she could have prepared herself. A part of her felt somehow blindsided.

Brienne removed her heavy cloak and laid it across the bed. Soon she found herself standing before the roaring fire that had been prepared for her. She wondered what the coming weeks would bring. Would she be constantly fending off advances from her would be suitor? Surely that was a distraction she could not abide. There was important work to be done, and she needed her wits about her. She had to believe that Tormund understood the sensitive and urgent nature of their business as well. He had more reason to be concerned about the future of the North than she did. Jon would not send him if he did not feel strongly That Tormund Giantsbane was the only person to complete the task.

‘Oh, stop being silly.’ She told herself. ‘Of course, Tormund will treat the matter the utmost skill and tact.’

Why then, was she so nervous? Why was she pacing? Why was she finding it hard to breath? Why could she not stop thinking about him? Brienne’s thoughts were finally halted by a knock at her door. She looked timidly at the thick carved oak panels, dreading who might be on the other side. Surely, he would understand her fatigue, and her need of solitude. With a deep breath she crossed the room and opened the entry just enough for one eye to peer into the hallway. A sigh of welcome surprise left her throat when she saw it was the same pleasant servant girl who had seen her to her chambers a short time before.

“I’ve brought your dinner, My Lady.” The girl announced.

Brienne smiled, feeling a bit foolish, and opened the door for the maid to enter. “Oh yes. Thank you.” Brienne said shyly, peering into the passageway to make sure no one else was there.

The young girl laid the tray on a low table near the fire and pulled a chair up to create a cozy dining area. Then she turned obediently to Brienne. “The water for your bath’ll be up shortly.” She smiled.

“That will be lovely.” Brienne nodded, preoccupied.

“Is there anything else you need, My Lady?” The girl bowed her head.

“No. Nothing.” Brienne answered, still wrestling with her thoughts.

The servant girl curtsied and left the room quickly. Brienne was glad to be alone once more. Looking around the silent room she was thankful it was not the same quarters she had shared with Jaime. That would have been more than she could bear. She was certain the Queen had seen to her comfort in that matter. She ate slowly, and tried to relax. When her bath had been drawn, she undressed, slipped into the large tub, and allowed herself to luxuriate in the warm silky water. As her body calmed, so did her mind. Whatever the coming weeks would bring as she traveled with Tormund Giantsbane at least there would be work to do. She would be busy and her mind would not have time to dwell on what she had lost.

Warm, and content, she climbed into bed early. Brienne thought she would be facing another fitful sleepless night. However, soon she fell into a deep peaceful slumber. She enjoyed the first tranquil sleep she had known in ages. That night, she did not dream of Jaime.

Brienne dreamed of Tormund Giantsbane.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne is startled by her own thoughts. Could Tormund actually be her destiny?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The journey finally gets underway.  
> I’ve played a little fast and loose with the powers of the Three-Eyed Raven at the end of this chapter. I hope no one will mind.  
> A little more Sansan here, too.

Brienne felt happy, and free, and light as a feather. Was she floating? No, it was only the breeze, the ocean breeze. It enveloped her like a soft blanket. It played with her hair and brushed against her flushed cheek. Her hand was warm. It was wrapped in Tormund’s strong protective grasp. Sighing contentedly, she stopped along the familiar path on which they walked. She knew this place. They were on Tarth. In the meadow where she had played as a child. Where the wildflowers overlooked the deep blue waves. Brienne had always been happy here. Leaning back against his muscular chest, she felt his arm encircle her waist and pull her to him. She turned in his grasp, their eyes finally meeting. She smiled longingly at him, and he met her invitation with sweet hungry lips. She let him, encouraged him, wanted him to explore every inch of her tingling skin. It was only them, alone together, and she needed him. Then she saw herself naked, laying outstretched in the tangle of tall grass and blossoms. Tormund gazed adoringly at her and lowered himself to her, caressing her bareness. She felt his weight upon her pressing down on her, both of them eager for the passion their closeness promised.  
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Brienne bolted from her sleep. She gasped, searching for breath. The sudden rush of blood to her brain as sat straight up made her head spin. Dizzy and staring straight ahead into the darkness she was half awake, half still in the dream. She was horrified to discover her inner thighs were wet from the imagined feeling of Tormund’s body so close to hers. She had dreamt of intimacy so many times before, but it had not been with him. After a few moments the shock wore off and the realization that it was just a dream dawned on her. Her breathing slowed, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Steadying herself, she stood deliberately and carefully.

The only light was that thrown by the dying fire. Brienne was glad of that. It made her personal embarrassment somehow more bearable. Yet, in some illogical part of her brain she felt as if the walls had eyes, and that with one look at her, the whole of Winterfell would know of her private thoughts. That he would know.

“It was just a dream.” She shook her head. Brienne told herself that it was only natural she would envision being on Tarth, her home. She was about to embark on an uncertain journey. She had high expectations for herself and perhaps feared failing Queen Sansa. Of course she would fantasize about a safe and comforting place.

As for her shocking partner in the dream. Brienne justified Tormund’s appearance in her imagination as simply her mind playing tricks on her. He had been present in her thoughts the previous evening as she dined, and bathed, and readied for her rest. She was going to be traveling with him for weeks. She was probably wondering about that notion as she drifted off, and he had remained conjured in her head. Lost in her thoughts again, Brienne stood staring at the smoldering embers in the hearth. She had calmed her shock, and her racing heart had relaxed. She created a story plausible enough for her own mind to accept its unwanted dalliance. Now comfortable with her unconscious storytelling, her mind slipped unbidden back to the events that had played there a short time before. She saw once more the lush meadow in which they had laid. She once more, felt his body next to hers. This time, she imagined another soft long kiss, and his hand trailing down her ready form. When she came to herself, she was surprised that she was actually breathing heavy, and biting her lower lip. Her hand was clutching the nighttime shift she wore until a good portion in it was bunched in her hand, and pulled tight across her hips.

She forcefully shook her head. “Stop It!” She orders herself. Embarrassment had turned to anger.

Brienne turned wrathfully from the fireplace and began to dress in the near darkness. She felt foolish, and powerless against her own thoughts. This would not happen again. It could not. She would not allow it. She would fill her mind with the task at hand. Nothing and no one would interfere with her service to the Queen. Once she had fully dressed and armored herself, Brienne gathered her belongings, shoved her emotions once more to the pit of her stomach, and strode proudly out of the room. The rumpled sheets and now quiet fire left as the only witnesses to her weakness.  
—————————————  
Brienne walked with authority into the stables. She would see to the saddling and outfitting of her horse herself. She did not expect to find Tormund already there readying his own mount. Jon was leaning against a paddock nearby. It was obvious they had been talking and most probably about her since their conversation went quiet when she strode in.

“Ser Brienne.” Jon greeted her with a cordial smile.

Brienne nodded. “Lord Comman...” She began, then remembered. “Mister Snow.” She mentally kicked herself for her error. That was not like her. He did not seem to notice.

Tormund, who had busied himself checking his horse’s hooves for no reason, straightened and gave her a wide smile. “Good morning, My Lady.” He grinned. “Sleep well?”

Brienne startled at his question. What had he meant by that? Did he know...about her dream? Surely not. Her face flushed at the memory. She recovered quickly, and gave him a nervous acknowledgment. “Yes. Thank you.” She said quickly.

She drew her horse out the pen where the animal had been sheltered and quickly strapped on her saddle. She threw her packs over the animal’s back. Finally Brienne checked and rechecked her supplies in an effort to keep busy and avoid conversation. She had already decided to be kind and gracious during the journey, but she would remain appropriately aloof. She was certain that would send the correct message, that she was only concerned with completing their task. Honestly, she knew no other way. She tried not to notice how Tormund’s gaze bore a hole in her, or the amused smirk he shot in Jon’s direction.

Finally, Queen Sansa entered the stables, flanked as usual by Sandor Clegane. She smiled warmly. “Is there anything you need?” She asked them both.

“Another horse to carry the wine, and sour goat’s milk.” Tormund laughed.

Jon rolled his eyes, Sansa laughed, but Brienne was quick to deflect the Wildling’s humor back to a more serious tone. “Everything is more than adequate, Your Grace.” She reported. “There is nothing else we require.”

“Please send us word as to your progress.” Sansa requested. “There are many houses who have lost much.” She continued. “If you find any in need, please let us know.”

“The Free Folk will help those, also.” Tormund offered.

Sansa’s expression was surprised and grateful. “That is wonderful news. Please thank them for me.” Tormund nodded and shrugged in response as if to say there was no need. Brienne looked at him with pleasant surprise. He had obviously already been working toward any possibility they may encounter. She had not expected that. The thoughtful gaze with which she graced him was one he would cherish.

Brienne brought herself back to the moment. “Shall we go?” She asked softly.

Tormund nodded, and waved his arm toward the stable doors. “After you, Ser Brienne.” He graciously offered, using her title proudly.

Again, Brienne wondered at the subdued nature of his demeanor as she led her horse out to the courtyard. Sansa and Sandor escorted Brienne, walking by her side. Tormund and Jon followed a few steps behind. Brienne did not see Tormund smiling at the image of her from behind as he followed. Once in the open, the two travelers climbed atop their mounts and settled in for the first part of their journey.

“Keep me posted.” Jon reminded Tormund. He nodded in response, only half hearing his friend. He was far too lost in anticipation of time alone with his Big Woman to attend to much of anything.

Sandor held Brienne’s horse still as Sansa stood anxiously beside her lady knight. “Good Luck, and Gods Speed.” She wished.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Brienne replied reverently. “I will make you proud.”

“As always.” Sansa confirmed and then backed away to allow her room to guide her mount.

“Ready?” Brienne turned eagerly to Tormund.

Tormund could keep himself together no longer in the presence of the most lovely creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. “Always.” He retorted, giving Brienne a winking flash of blue eyes and an upswept brow.

Brienne exhaled in annoyance, and gave Sansa a pleading look as she walked her horse slowly toward the gate. Tormund guided his horse to her side. He could not believe his luck. The two of them together on a romantic journey in the frigid North. He was certain he would win her over this time.

  
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Sansa, Sandor, and Jon watched the pair ride through the gates and along the path that led north from Winterfell. Sansa stood with a hopeful expression resting on her placid features. Jon looked pensive as usual. Sandor Clegane could barely stifle his snicker at the thought of Brienne and Tormund on the road together. That pairing promised to provide as many irritating moments as had his travels with his wife’s sister. He stood shaking his head at the images he saw there.

Sansa gave her husband a wide-eyed stare. “You don’t think this will work?” She questioned him in annoyance.

Sandor gave her his most innocent, ‘leave me out of this,’ gaze.

“It has to.” Jon answered in his place. “If anyone can persuade the undecided houses and appease the disgruntled ones, they can.” His ever serious nature giving him a business-first air.

“Of that I am sure,” Sansa agreed. “I’m talking about the other thing.” She corrected.

“You heard what Bran said.” Jon reminded her. “That Jaime Lannister was never supposed to be at Winterfell. It was always Brienne and Tormund’s destiny to be together. As the Three-Eyed Raven, he saw it. He said all they needed was time alone together.”

Sansa nodded. “And that the future of the North depended on their future. He said their children would bring the North and True North together for a thousand years, and eventually the whole of Westeros.”

The Queen smiled at another memory. Sansa remembered when she had been devastated upon hearing the news of Sandor’s reported death in Kings Landing. As her brother, Bran the King, the Three-Eyed Raven, could not bare to see her pain. He had confided to her that she and Sandor were each other’s destinies, and he would return to her. She had learned to pay heed to Bran’s words.

Sandor stood listening to them, and remembered a comment Tormund had made to him once about the children he wanted to have with Brienne conquering the world. ‘I’ll be damned.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘That crazy Wildling was right all along.’

Sansa heard his laugh and questioned him again. “What, may I ask do find so funny?” She feigned hurt feeling.

Sandor laughed even louder, and wrapped his arms around Sansa. They had never stood on ceremony or hid their emotions in their marriage. They had missed too much time with each other, and refused to surrender any more. He drew his wife close to him, his large hands encircling her rounded belly and resting there. He kissed her neck. “I am simply enjoying how adorable you are when you’re devious. You little matchmaker.” He moved his lips to her temple, and smiled as she snuggled closer to him in the cold.

Jon grinned bashfully and lowered his gaze to allow them privacy. He was happy his sister/cousin had found such a deep love. She deserved it more than anyone. He knew Sandor Clegane would protect her always. He gave them a moment, and then brought the topic back to Brienne and Tormund.

“Well, one thing’s for sure.” Jon sighed deeply and shook his head. “The next time we see them here at Winterfell, they will both either be madly in love with each other, or she will have killed him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tormund considers how to win over Brienne. She realizes that there is more to him than first impressions.

They had ridden in silence for the better part of the day. Brienne had taken the lead sitting proudly atop her chestnut mount, chin held high, eyes set straight ahead. Her angry seething had finally subsided, leaving her a bit unsure of where to begin speaking after staying quiet for so long. Truthfully, she was surprised that he had acted almost courteously since they had met again. She began to think that maybe he was trying, perhaps his best, to help her feel comfortable. She lowered her head at the thought, part of her grateful, part of her feeling a bit guilty for expecting the worst.

Tormund had spent the day enjoying the view of Brienne of Tarth from behind. Gods, she was the most captivating woman he had ever laid eyes on. He had dreamed of her each time he had closed his eyes since the first day he saw her at Castle Black. What in the Seven Hells was wrong with that pretty boy Lannister fool. Brienne had been the Kingkiller’s for the taking, and he had used her and thrown her away. Tormund would have held on to her for dear life. She was strong, independent, and could fight better than anyone he had ever seen. She was not one of those fragile kneeler women who succumbed to the cold, or died bringing their children into the world. A man could conquer the world with a woman like that at his side. He loved her with all of his heart.  
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The sky was beginning to darken in the east, the clouds overhead taking on a purplish hue. Nighttime would soon be upon them. They were so far into the heart of the North that they had left the King’s Road behind hours ago. Since then Brienne and Tormund had seen nothing but miles of white covered ground stretching beyond them in all directions.

Brienne brought her horse to a stop and surveyed the land ahead. Tormund drew up beside her and at last was able to take in the full glory of her profile. She pointed to a stand of evergreen trees in the distance. “We should take shelter for the night.” She almost ordered. “That should do.”

His smiling eyes followed in the direction her finger indicated, and nodded his agreement. “Whatever you say.” He could not help but flash her his most appealing grin, attempting to win her over with his famed charm.

Brienne nodded, ignoring his allure, and began to lead her horse on toward the forest when Tormund reached out, placing his hand on her arm to stop her. She stared at him, not understanding, but stilled the horse and waited.

Without a sound Tormund climbed down from his horse and reached across the saddle packs to retrieve a bow and arrow. Brienne bristled in the saddle and peered around nervously, alert for danger. She looked again at Tormund. He was not alarmed. He was calm and meticulous in his actions. She watched him notch the arrow in the bow. There was no sound. Even his feet made no echoes on the snow as he crept into the open field near which they had stopped. It was as if he had become the very wind itself. Brienne watched mesmerized as Tormund came to a stop, crouched slightly and raised the weapon to his eye. Needing only a slight second to aim, he let loose the arrow. It traveled so fast, that Brienne could barely see it as the thin piece of wood sped across the barren meadow. Finally, Tormund’s arrow found its prize. Over a hundred yards away, a fat rabbit shuttered and spun as the arrow tore through its body. It fell to the snow lifeless and without suffering.

Brienne could not take her eyes off Tormund as he trod across the field to retrieve his kill. She had not even seen the animal at such a distance. As Tormund returned, drawing closer, she saw that most of the animal’s fur was as white as the ground that had surrounded it. She knew she could not have made such a clean, quick shot from that distance. Perhaps he was more than just boasting and bravado. Perhaps she had a lot to learn about her Wildling traveling companion.

Marveling at his skill, Brienne gave Tormund a genuine smile while he proudly held up his kill for her to examine, happy to provide for his lady love. “Dinner.” He proclaimed.  
—————————-  
Upon reaching the stand of trees among which they would take refuge for the night, Brienne was first to alight from her horse. Tying up her mount to a nearby low branch, she was eager to get a fire started and begin building a shelter. Wasting no time, she started gathering stones to create a small fire pit. Tormund took his time dismounting and tying his horse beside Brienne’s. He was lost in watching her actions. She was no stranger to hard work, she seemed to welcome it. What a helpmate she would be. He dropped the rabbit carcass near the circle of stones Brienne had laid out. Then drawing his sword, he joined her in cutting branches off the trees. Leaning the limbs against each other, they soon had a tiny hut that would protect them from the frigid elements for the night.

They had angled their shelter so the fire could be built outside the entrance, close enough to warm the interior but at a distance that would not present a danger. Brienne used her sword to strike a flint stone, starting a fire, and fed it with the kindling that lay all around under the evergreen trees. Soon there was a small but adequate blaze beginning to warm them. Tormund finished laying out their bed rolls and furs inside the hut, and turned his attentions to cleaning and preparing his kill for their meal.

They quickly fell into a knowing rhythm as they worked to ready themselves for the cold night ahead. Brienne used her knife to fashion a roasting spit out of several twigs. Truthfully, her toils to stay busy were more from an effort to avoid watching Tormund gutting and skinning their dinner. Since she was a young girl and her father’s Master At Arms had assigned her to the slaughter house at Evenfall, attempting to toughen her up, she had avoided the task of butchering game whenever possible.

She looked up from positioning the skewers over the fire just in time to see Tormund ripping the flesh from the rabbit carcass leaving only the sinewy muscles to be roasted. She could not veil her reflexive gasp, and looked away, repulsed. He noticed, and hurried to finish in order to cause her no further distress.

Once the meat had been secured to the skewers Brienne had sharpened and placed over the fire to cook, Tormund sat down beside her where she had cleared a patch of snow from the ground. They sat in silence as the meat cooked, giving off a mouthwatering aroma in contrast to the wretched site it had been a few minutes before. Brienne had taken a skin of wine from her saddle bag along with two small pewter cups. She poured one cup full and handed it to Tormund. The other she filled by half for herself. He downed his in one gulp, and she handed him the skin.

After filling his cup again, Tormund removed the cooked rabbit from the fire, and used his knife to split the roast. He handed one side to Brienne, who began to nibble lightly at it. He attacked his with a ravenous vengeance. She could not help but remember the last time they had actually shared a meal, and how he devoured that bread at Castle Black. A slight smile passed over her features at the thought. They ate in silence for a short while, until Tormund spoke up quizzically.

“How is it you can kill a man in battle, but you have no stomach for butchering game?” He asked smiling. He had not meant it as an insult, merely and observation of yet another quality he found wonderful about her.

Brienne’s cheeks reddened and she looked away, studying the ground in a far too engrossed manner. Timidness at that moment would have never been questioned in any other woman. Was everything about her to be mocked? Tormund noticed her crestfallen and angry reaction, and realized she had mistaken his meaning.

“I’m not judging, mind you.” He tried to correct his error. “It isn’t the most enjoyable thing to do.” He gave her a nervous smile that told her he was trying his best.

Something within Brienne realized she had no reason not to trust him. He had been understanding and helpful today, and so full of surprises. It was he who had killed, butchered, and cooked their dinner, and she did not want to seem ungrateful. Brienne supposed it could do no harm to enlighten him as to the reason for her disgust.

“When I was a girl, ...” Brienne started slowly, staring into the fire, somehow trying to burn the horrifying memory out of her mind. “...When I began my training with the Master At Arms of my father’s house, Ser Goodwin, I hesitated while sparring. He said I was not hard enough to fight in battle.” Her gaze was distant, as if lost in the past. Tormund said nothing, but listened carefully to her every word. She poured her painful memories out to him, glad to finally release them. “To harden me, he gave me a new duty in the slaughter house with the butcher.” She swallowed hard, but continued. “Mine was to slit the throats of all the piglets and lambs.” She closed her eyes, as if the thought was too disturbing to face.

Seeing her pain, Tormund stirred. He moved closer to Brienne, wanting to ease her hurt somehow. She did not see his movement, but went on with her recollection. “How they cried and screamed. I think my sobs were just as loud.” She stiffened. “By the end of day, I was covered in blood from head to foot.” Tormund saw how the retelling of this foul event pained Brienne. Her breath was coming in shallow waves, and she gasped as she spoke. “I had my clothes burned.” She said in a whispered. Her face hardened after a moment to a proud stare. “But I have never hesitated in battle.” Her fist clenched in triumph. “When I wield my sword against a man, I never flinch.”

“I’ve seen you in battle,” Tormund spoke up proudly, remembering Brienne’s valor at Winterfell. “You fight as well as any man. Better than most.” He reassured her, as his eyes beamed with pride. “I would fight beside you any day, anywhere.” He vowed.

Brienne shook the image of the long ago trauma from her head, as if Tormund’s voice had brought her back to the present. Even as he smiled at the thought of her bravery, she looked away to hide the embarrassment on her face. She had not meant to be so candid, to give so much of herself away. Understanding her discomfort, he laid his hand gently on her forearm. He wanted to tell her he hated the beasts that forced her to endure such torment as a child. He wanted to tell her he would find them and slit their throats if she wanted him to.

“I’m sorry they did that to you,” was all he said quietly to her.

Her eyes glistening with stifled tears, Brienne lifted her face to his to find the same sorrow at her torment there. Part of her was so overwhelmed at his empathy for her that all she wanted to do was to lose herself in the deep blue pools of his eyes. The part of her that won was that which wanted to crawl away and hide. She snapped herself back to her usual stoicism, and hid her emotions as quickly as she allowed them to surface.

“Well.” Brienne announced uncomfortably. “If we’re going to get an early start tomorrow, I’d better get some sleep.” She hopped up as if the ground around her were on fire. Remembering her courtesies she added, “Thank you...for the dinner.” She bashfully turned her head to eye him from the corner of her lowered gaze. “...and...for listening.” She added truly grateful but overcome with awkwardness. Before Tormund could answer she disappeared into the shelter, leaving him watching her go.  
———————————  
Tormund sat considering what he had learned of Brienne from their short conversation, as he drained the wine from the skin flask. He already loved her more than even he could imagine, and yet every new piece that added to the complete story of this incredible woman made him worship her more. How was that possible? How could total perfection be improved upon? She seemed to know some magic secret, because every time he laid eyes on her it felt like his heart would burst from how much he adored her.

He had thought he would never see her again, after Winterfell. Tormund hoped that after the Kingkiller had gotten what he had wanted from Brienne and crawled back into the night that she would turn to him. He knew he could have healed her broken heart and won it for himself. But they had not seen each other after that. Then, he went North of the Wall with Jon, and she had gone South to a new life in a Kings Landing. He truly had tried to forget her. He spent so many sleepless nights battling to chase her from his thoughts. It was no good. He would go to his grave belonging to her.

Then, there it was, what he had wanted most was being handed to him. Jon had chosen him to ride with her. He was certain this meant only thing, that they were destined to be together after all. Jon had understood. He had told Tormund of the differences in courting a southern woman. It called for manners and subtlety. Both of which he was lacking. He agreed to try, but it felt awkward and fake. He wanted Brienne to fall in love with him, not some fancy part he was trying to play. Besides, she had barely said a word until they had made camp. How was he going to win her over when she would not even speak to him?

He sat on the cold ground, lost in thought, until the soft rhythmic sound of Brienne’s breathing from the shelter behind him eased him from his pondering. He fed and stoked the fire until it was large enough to burn through the night. Then he crawled into the hut they had made and onto his bed roll directly opposite Brienne. Sleep still would not find him, however, as he reclined against the furs and studied her.

Brienne was an angel lying there fast asleep, her features bathed by the soft firelight that shone inside their refuge. The fur under which she rested was laid across her waist. She had removed her armor and in her slumber her cloak had fallen beneath her lean angled shoulder exposing the fabric of her tunic and the outline of her breast beneath. She was not generously endowed in that feature, but Tormund could tell just from the outline of her form that she was perfect. He allowed himself to imagine the sweet pleasure of exploring those perfect breasts with his tongue, of feeling the softness of her beneath his aching hands. He wanted nothing more than to be beside her, holding her in his arms. His body began to react to the thoughts of her, and he forced himself to lose his imaginings on other wonders about her.

He was glad she had shared her memory with him earlier. It was painful, but at least it was a connection. Perhaps something to build upon. He wondered what other experiences had shaped her. He thought of the exotic far off island from which she came, Tarth. Even that name was lovely. He had heard about the wonders there, but had no reference to truly picture them. Crystal blue sapphire waters, shadowy vales, veins of white marble stone, lush green mountains that met the sea, meadows of wildflowers. He did not know what a southern wildflower looked like, but he supposed them the most beautiful blossoms in the world. He could scarcely imagine an entire field full of them. Whatever they looked like he longed to lay Brienne down in them. Filling his mind with that glorious image, he laid back against the furs and finally fell into a deep sleep. All during the night he dreamed of her.  
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The next morning, Brienne awoke to the sound of sweet singing birds. She had slept just as soundly as when she had arrived again at Winterfell. The first night she had not dreamed of Jaime. The night she had dreamed of ...Tormund, again. She blushed at her memory, and then realization returned to her of where she was. She raised herself up on her elbow and surveyed the inside of the shelter through sleepy eyes, pained slightly from the first light of day. Tormund had been sleeping across from her, but had stirred apparently upon hearing her move. She noticed that his only protection from the cold was the layer of furs he wore. She looked down and realized the top fur from his bed roll had been draped across her body. She stared at the large thick pelt, thoroughly confused.

Sitting up, he smiled at her. “Good Morning.” He beamed lethargically. He appeared to have not gotten as much sleep as she had.

“Good Morning.” Brienne answered peering at her fur blanket, baffled.

“This is your fur.” She stared. “Why am I...?” She began to question.

He answered before her inquiry left her throat, anticipating the information she sought. “You shivered in the night,” was all he said.

She could not believe his selflessness. He had given up his fur so she might be warm. “You must be freezing.” She looked at him with concern.

“You forget where I’m from.” He chuckled. “This is more like a warm spring day to me.”

Her eyes softened. No one, except for her own father, had ever been so thoughtful and considerate of her needs before. “Thank you.” She said softly, studying him as if she was seeing him for the first time.

His eyes met hers, and returned her smile. “Anything for you.” He answered before turning to gather up the furs upon which he had laid.

She stayed transfixed, studying him. Her hand went to her mouth to stop a giggle at his sleepy disheveled appearance. The breath caught slightly in her throat at pondering his rugged frame. She actually found him quite handsome. Brienne made a silent vow to be kinder to him. Perhaps she has misjudged him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Tormund begin to grow closer as they help a Northern family in desperate need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a whole lot of romance and angst between our ship pair in this chapter. This is more of a set up chapter for events to come. I had to split a chapter into 3 parts because it was getting too long.

Over the next weeks Brienne and Tormund traversed the North calling upon House after House. At many, they found staunch Stark loyalists, more than willing to pledge all they had including their lives in support of their Queen. At some estates they were met with skepticism. Some bannermen were unsure whether the tenuous peace could be maintained. A few even showed open aggression at the thought of bending the knee to a woman, even if she was a Stark. Still other houses were barely subsisting after losing many family members in the battle with the dead. They did their best to oblige, cajole, appease, and negotiate. There were some Northmen with whom they even had to resort to threats.

Brienne’s frustration over her unexpected associate soon subsided, and she began to truly contemplate Tormund’s finer qualities. She found herself watching him, studying him closely. She had never seen someone who could read others so well. She was amazed by his ability to seemlessly alter his approach depending upon their audience. He had proven himself to be calm and steadfast among the older more stoic houses of the North, letting her take the lead with hardened nobles still wary of anyone from beyond The Wall. Regardless of where they found themselves, those to whom they petitioned, or the level of support they found, Brienne was discovering that Tormund was an exceptionally brilliant negotiator, and a natural leader. She found herself learning from him. It took little time together for her to realize that it was his kindness that affected her the most and eventually mellowed her toward him.

They reached Frozen Heath late in the afternoon of a brutally cold day with a night’s snowfall looming on the horizon. The modest tower house, more of a farm really, comprised the main structure and was nestled at the base of the Northern Mountains. It faced a large open meadow that looked as though it could not remember ever seeing the sky under the snow that layered deep upon it. The seat of House Burgen, who had long ago sworn fealty to House Burrley of the Mountain Clans, Frost Heath had seen better days even before the Battle at Winterfell. More of the small main house was dilapidated than livable. Brienne and Tormund almost assumed it to be abandoned until they noticed a small child running from the barn to the tower. Undoubtedly, their arrival was being announced to the occupants inside.

They were careful not to draw scrutiny, or appear threatening, in their approach. Upon reaching the small yard in front of the Keep, for the house had no guard wall or inner courtyard, they tied their horses to a fence post and walked slowly to the main door. Tormund knocked carefully on the large solid oak panel which was certainly bolted securely. He and Brienne eyed each other apprehensively as they waited.

The door opened slowly, but only an inch. A small and sunken hazel eye peered out at them. “May I help you?” A frightened voice inquired. It was the tone of a young woman.

Understanding the owner of the timid voice might be more comfortable speaking to a woman, Brienne answered in response. “I am Brienne of Tarth, My Lady” She nodded. “This is Tormund Giantsbane. We are here at the behest on Queen Sansa Stark, to inquire on the status of your house.”

“The Queen in The North?” The young woman gasped, and opened the door wider revealing a tiny frame made smaller from near starvation. Her skin was sallow and pale, and the lack of any fat on her bones to warm her caused her to shiver in the open doorway. “What could House Stark want with us?” She stared in amazement.

“May we enter?” Brienne asked again, eager to get the freezing woman out of the cold.

“Oh, forgive me.” The lady begged, and moved aside opening the door wider to allow her visitors’ entrance to her home.

Brienne stepped inside the tower house first, followed by Tormund. The door opened directly into a small Great Hall. The room had a high ceiling and was dimly lit with only a few narrow windows overhead. The fireplace at one end was enormous, even by Winterfell standards. There was, however, only a miniscule blaze dying in the hearth. A frail older woman sat beside the fire, wrapped in worn furs. Two small children, a boy and girl seemingly very close in age, huddled behind her peeking out in fear.

“Please, forgive my manners.” Their hostess looked embarrassed. “I am Lady Chamilia Burgen.” Gesturing toward the woman by the fireplace, “This is my husband’s mother, Lady Catherine, and my children Allen and Charlotte,” she finished proudly.

“Are you here by yourselves?” Tormund asked surveying the room. A house filled with only women and children would have been no cause for worry, if this had been the True North, and if they were Free Folk. They would all be able to protect themselves fiercely. This family, or what was left of it, did not look like they could last through a few moons, let alone an entire Winter. He was instantly concerned for them.

“Where are your men?” Brienne inquired, afraid she knew the answer.

“My husband, and his father were killed at Winterfell, fighting the dead.” Lady Chamilia looked down sadly.

“Then they fought bravely, and died honorably.” Brienne comforted.

“Were...were you there?” She asked staring at Brienne’s armor.

“Yes.” Brienne said quietly. “We both were.” The young widow nodded silently.

“Then, you are the only ones here?” Tormund questioned. His worry for them growing. “Do you have enough supplies to last through the cold?” He asked, already knowing the answer. He saw Brienne’s expression also fill with dread at the thought.

Chamilia looked ashamed, and tried to cover her poverty. “Oh, we have enough.” She stuttered, eager to change the subject.

“You...you mentioned Queen Sansa.” She diverted attention from her plight. “Please, we’ll do anything we can for House Stark.”

Brienne smiled. “The Queen has tasked us with ensuring the unity of the North, and with making sure that her people are safe and secure.”

“Our fealty is sworn to House Stark.” Lady Chamilia vowed proudly. “Our loyalty to the long reign of House Stark is unwavering. We will give all that we have.”

“It appears you have already done that.” Brienne looked at her compassionately. “The Queen would like us help you with whatever you may need.” She could tell the woman’s pride would not be easily overcome.

“We will be fine.” Chamilia assured them, smiling bravely but not so believably. She noticed the light through the windows was beginning to dim. “Would you please dine with us this evening.” She wanted to prove that her family was provided for, even though they were not.

“Oh, thank you.” Brienne smiled. “But we wouldn’t dream of imposing.” She answered as Tormund nodded in agreement. “We have our own supplies.” Brienne continued. “If it would not be too much trouble, might we ask the use of your barn for our lodging this night?”

“Oh goodness, no!” Lady Chamilia looked shocked. “I’ll not hear of you sleeping in the barn. No agents of House Stark will be turned out in the cold.” Her dignity was evidence that this woman had seen finer days. “You will have a bed, a warm fire, and anything else you require.” She promised. “I also insist you be our guests for dinner. It will not be much, but it will be hot.”

Brienne and Tormund smiled at each other. After so many nights at inns, building shelters of branches, and just plain sleeping on the ground, a feather mattress and toasty fire sounded far too nice to decline. Tormund was eager for Brienne to enjoy that luxury, and accepted quickly. “We are honored. Thank you very much.” He acknowledged gratefully, and presented a deep bow which any highborn male in Westeros would have envied. Brienne’s eyes widened in astonishment. This man was continuing to surprise her. Straightening again to his full height, Tormund gave her a huge smile.

“It is settled, then.” Chamilia grinned. “Dinner is nearly ready.” She reported, and looked over at her daughter. “Charlotte, I need your help in the kitchen.” The small girl obediently ran to her mother’s side. “You too, Allen.” She nodded. Her little boy reluctantly followed his sister.

“May I help you?” Brienne asked, hoping her offer would be accepted.

“I would not dream of it.” Chamilia assures. “Please rest, and warm yourselves by the fire.”

“I’ll stable the horses.” Tormund offered.

“Of course.” Chamilia smiled, taking her daughter’s hand. “If you’ll excuse us.” Brienne and Tormund nodded.

Brienne walked with Tormund to the door, eager to speak with him out of earshot from their hosts. She strode so close to him that her gate was off balance which forced her to lean against his body for support. The pressure of her perfect form felt so right to him. She whispered her concern into his ear. As she spoke to him, her breath tickled his ear, and thrilled him to the point of losing his own. He imagined for a moment what it would be like to feel it every night.

Reaching the door as Brienne finished her words, Tormund twisted the large knob and opened the portal. He turned to look at Brienne, standing in the open doorway. The brisk night wind blew her hair back like a halo surrounding her beautiful face. Her cheeks began to flush rosy from the chill. The brilliant blue of her eyes seemed even deeper in the dim light. He marveled at the kindness and mercy she felt so deeply.

“We have to help them.” She urged. He could see the fear and worry for this family she had just met, and he was astounded by her compassion.

Taking her forearm in gentle reassurance, his face was stony with resolve. The declaration he made was more a promise. “We will.” He vowed to her.

Brienne watched Tormund turn and close the large door behind him. She stared at the grain of the old wood for several moments, as if just this time without him was difficult. She had not realize how much she had grown accustomed to his presence. She surprised herself with the thought, and with the sudden spark of loneliness she felt without him.

Brienne turned slowly, trying to gather her strength to face their new allies whom she did not know how to help. She saw Lady Catherine watching her from beside the hearth. Brienne gave her a nervous smile and moved slowly to join her.

“Lady Catherine,” Brienne bowed as she addressed the older mistress of the house. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

The matriarch of the Burgen family reached out a frail hand. Brienne’s outstretched arm met the woman’s grasp. She could feel the slight force of Lady Catherine attempting to pull her close. Brienne answered the wordless gesture by kneeling before the sickly lady.

Lady Catherine leaned closer to her. Her voice nearly a whisper she implored. “I care nothing of what happens to me, but I beg you. I beg the Queen. Please help my dear son’s wife, and the children. I am an old woman and not long for this world, but they will surely starve before Winter leaves us.” She peered at Brienne with tears in her eyes.

Brienne returned Lady Catherine’s solemn gaze, wanting to make the woman understand how earnestly she understood her plea, and how serious she was in her agreement to help. “I swear.” Brienne assured her. “We will do everything in our power to see it done.” She held the cold wrinkled hand in hers for a while longer to emphasize her promise.

Tormund had finished putting up the horses for night and was returning to the Great Hall just as Lady Chamilia and her children brought in large steaming bowls from the kitchen. With no servants to assist them, their arms were laden with pitchers, plates, and pewterware. Brienne rushed to relieve them of some of their burden. It took only a short time to set the table and layout the dinner. Brienne smiled shyly at Tormund, happy at his return.

The meal was warm and tasty, but sparse. Potatoes comprised most of dishes, along with a few root vegetables that had been heavily seasoned. Brienne was almost certain the spices had been used to disguise the taste of food that had nearly rotted in the field. The image caused her concern for this family to grow. She and Tormund ate only small amounts, wanting to save the provisions for the family.

“Everything is delicious.” Brienne smiled at Chamilia who seemed relieved.

When the food had been eaten, and the conversation lulled, young Allen who had been staring at Tormund in awe could hold his silence no longer. “Are you really a Wildling?” He blurted.

Chamilia sternly corrected her son before Tormund could answer. “Allen! That term is slang, and impolite.” The boy looked down embarrassed.

“Please forgive my son.” She begged the flame-haired fur-clad man at her table. “I’m afraid we don’t get many visitors which allows him few opportunities to practice his social graces.” She eyed her boy again, afraid he had insulted a delegate of House Stark. Brienne stifled a grin. Tormund had been called much worse.

“That’s alright.” Tormund answered smiling understandingly at the boy. “Many people call me that, yes. But, we call ourselves Free Folk.” He said, not having been slighted in the least by the youngsters innocent question.

At that, the boy brightened, and he and sister began a steady stream of question based on the legends and exaggerations they had heard of those from Beyond the Wall. “Do you really kill bears with your bare hands?” “Does the sun really never set?” “Are there really giants?” Tormund laughed and answered each child in turn. Brienne marveled at his patient, easy way with them. She had never felt comfortable around children herself, even when she was one. She did not realize that her gaze in his direction was soft and affectionate. Between the barrage of inquiries Tormund would smile at Brienne with his usual adoration. Chamilia now thought she understood why this highborn Lady Knight was traveling with a man from the True North. They were obviously a couple.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne feels her attraction to Tormund grow, and things begin to heat up... a little.

With dinner over and the children growing sleepy, Lady Chamilia led Brienne and Tormund upstairs. Stopping in the dark hallway, lit only by the candle she held, the young woman motioned toward a door. “I hope you will find everything to your liking.” She smiled.

For a moment, her guests looked confused at having only one chamber. Tormund, concerned for Brienne’s modesty and not wanting anything to disrupt the newfound comradery between them, began to speak up. Brienne’s calm understanding hand on his arm silenced him. “I’m sure it will be lovely.” She smiled.

Chamilia nodded, and opened the door to usher them inside. The room was small but had a warm fire, a table with two chairs, and what appeared to be a soft comfortable bed. “Sleep well, then.” She said.

“And you.” Brienne answered as Chamilia took her leave. Tormund still did not understand what was happening. Of course they had spent night after night sleeping only inches from each other in the small shelters they had made. However, they had their own bed rolls, and their bodies had seldom touched. He certainly did not mind the thought of spending a night in the same bed as the woman he loved, but Brienne’s honor was foremost in his mind. However, he understood that southerners held uptight and inconvenient notions about women and men sharing the same quarters. He wondered why Brienne had not protested.

When the door had closed he questioned her. “Didn’t you want two chambers? Wouldn’t that be more...proper...for you? He asked.

“I didn’t want to embarrass our hostess by correcting her.” Brienne answered.

“Oh.” He nodded, thoroughly confused.

Brienne could tell he was not following her logic, and explained further. “There are certain rules of...my society that are based upon one’s station. A highborn lady does not travel alone with a man unless they are...attached.” She spoke haltingly almost embarrassed. “She knew I was highborn when I introduced myself with my title. She doesn’t know that I gave up being a lady when I chose the life of Battle.”

Tormund thought pensively for a moment, realization of Brienne’s words dawning. “So...she thinks...” he began.

Brienne finished his sentence quickly. “She thinks we’re married.” She blushed as she turned from him, not wanting to meet his gaze. She did not understand why she felt her heart beat faster and her blood rush at the thought.

Tormund stared intently in the opposite direction, the picture that Brienne had just painted sinking in. A wide, sublime smile grew on his face. He lost himself visualizing all her description meant. If only it were true. After a few seconds he brought himself back to reality when he had not heard Brienne. Turning, he saw her staring at the double bed. The only sleeping accommodations in the room. Her face held a stricken look. It was dread that filled her heart, and Tormund realized that she was lost in a memory, one that had nothing to do with him. He knew who her thoughts were imagining, and anger boiled in his veins at the other man that had turned what should have been a beautiful experience for her into such painful regret. If it had been him with her at Winterfell after the battle, he would have made Brienne feel like a queen. He would have sooner had his flesh flailed from his bones than ever leave her, if she were his. Perhaps they really would be married by now, if she had chosen him then. Tormund could not bare her pain.

Desperate to ease her worry, he moved across the tiny chamber to face her. Smiling comfortingly at her, he snapped her back to the present. “I will sleep on the floor.” He offered.

Brienne gave him a relieved smile. “I don’t mind taking the floor.” She spoke up, shyly.

“I won’t hear of it.” Tormund smiled at her. He would not dream of his lady lying on the cold stone when there was soft bed for her.

“Thank you.” Brienne lowered her eyes feeling guilty.

He nodded and moved the chairs that flanked the table nearer to the fire. Brienne chose the one by the bed, and sat stiffly. Noticing a flagon of wine resting on the table Tormund poured two cups and joined her, now relaxing much closer together than they had on the first night of their journey. This evening’s events caused them to sit in an awkward silence for some time. Their minds raced for something to say to break their embarrassment. Neither could tell whether their flushed faces were the result of the heat from the fire, or their accelerated heartbeats. Finally, they each tried to close the gap that seemed to have formed between them.

“You were...” Brienne began. 

“I think you...” Tormund started at the same time. 

They cut each other off, and laughed at the coincidence. Fiddling for something to break the tension, they each sipped their wine pensively. Their breathing shallow with nervousness.

Tormund motioned for Brienne to continue, but she shook her head. “I’m taking the bed.” She smiled. “The least I can do is let you speak first.” Without intending to, Brienne regarded him so sweetly that Tormund lost his breath and almost could not speak.

He grinned, and forced his voice up from his throat. “I think you eased their minds tonight. You made them feel better. To know they haven’t been forgotten.” He praised Brienne.

“I hope so.” Her face was gravely worried. “I’m frightened for them. They do not have enough to survive much longer. I know Queen Sansa will do whatever she can to assist them...” Brienne swallowed hard to stop her voice from choking with tears of compassion. “But Winterfell is so far away. They need help now.” She looked away and a tear trailed down her cheek.

Tormund’s heart hurt to see Brienne in such pain. It swelled with pride at the thought of her tenderness and mercy. She was moved to tears at the plight of people she had just met. She astonished him. Brienne was the kindest, most caring person he had ever known.

Not thinking, nor caring how it seemed, he took her hand and held it softly by the firelight. Brienne looked at him and was caught by his arduous gaze. Without hesitation, she stared back at him. Their eyes held each other for longer than should have been comfortable. However, neither wanted to move, as if looking away would steal something they could never have again. Something far too precious to take lightly.

Brienne leaned closer to him, surprising even herself. She wanted his kiss on her mouth. She could almost feel his caress on her body. She longed for it. She wanted him. Her brain raced to determine when she had begun to desire him, to need him close to her. Perhaps she always had, but something or someone, had blinded her toward him. Brienne thought back to that first time they had sat across from each other, over the meal at Castle Black which Tormund had made seem a feast. 

She recalled how her heart had raced and her faced flushed when he entered the room and sat so close to her. Brienne had stolen a timid glance at him then, wanting desperately to determine if the same intense fascination with which he had beheld her arrival remained. From the way Tormund stared at her over the crust of bread he devoured, it was clear that his smitten interest had not disappeared. No man had ever looked at her that way before him. Never, before the moment she rode through the gates of the Fortress of the Nights Watch had Brienne ever seen eyes that followed her with such lust. Brienne had never felt so thrilled, and so completely terrified at the same time. But, she had refused to let down her walls for him, had turned from him, almost cruelly. Then they each had gone their separate ways. He to lead his band of Wildlings. Her to Winterfell, and eventually to Jaime. She choked back his memory, and bid herself not to think of the man who had hurt her so deeply. The one who had wanted her from the first moment he saw her was there, with her, holding her hand and staring deeply into her eyes. For the first time, Brienne felt it truly possible to leave Jaime Lannister in the past. She found herself wondering if there was still a chance for her with Tormund Giantsbane. Now, she could give herself to him freely. She found herself shocked by how much she wanted to do just that.

At the same moment her heart fluttered with new and exciting possibilities, her mind screamed at her and appealed to her cautious nature. What was she thinking? Brienne had given herself away once, and had been denied. Even though Tormund was as different from Jaime Lannister as night was to day, and she doubted he could ever do to her what Jaime had done, the thought of letting another man into her heart terrified Brienne. She was not sure if she could ever love or trust anyone again. She had already allowed herself to be too vulnerable. Surely she had killed the feelings that Tormund once held for her when she chose Jaime over him at Winterfell. She would not make such a fool of herself again. Brienne quickly sat back as her uncertainty overcame her. She dropped her eyes to her lap, and pulled her hand back from Tormund’s touch.

He did not protest, nor did he try to hold on. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to wrap her in his arms and stay there forever. He wanted to kiss every inch of her body, and make love to her all night. He understood how deeply she had been hurt. If Jaime Lannister had been there now, Tormund would have gutted the worm with his own sword. He would not take advantage of Brienne’s weakness. He would wait until she was ready. His love for her was such that he would wait forever if that was what she needed. When, and if, she gave herself to him it would be on her terms and there would be no one between them.

Eager to change the direction of their interaction Brienne remembered the thought she had tried to voice a few moments earlier. Perhaps, if she continued in that direction, he wouldn’t notice how her face flushed, or how her chest heaved with the rushing of her breath, or how she had almost kissed him.

“You, you were wonderful with the children.” Brienne noted.

Tormund smiled wide with a happy memory. “It was nice to talk to little ones again. Mine are nearly grown.” He paused unsure how Brienne would react to his revelation.

Brienne blinked, raising her brows. At first she thought she had not heard him correctly. “You have children?” She asked, her voice halting.

“Aye. Two girls.” Although he was nervous at what her response might be, he could not stop the pride from showing in his voice and on his face.

Brienne returned his smile. Of course he had not just appeared out of thin air at Castle Black. Obviously this man had a life before she had met him. The knowledge the he was a father, added to his charm. She could not help but wonder about his daughters. The only thing that worried her was the thought that perhaps he also had a wife. “Where are they?” She asked, apprehensively.

“Up North.” He replied. “With their mothers.” He watched closely for Brienne’s reaction.

She could not hide her relief. No, he was not married. “Mothers?” She asked. Surely, even in Free Folk culture, a man could not have two wives.

He blushed. “Yes. I wasn’t always the settling down type. I guess age has mellowed me.” He smiled bashfully, hoping it would not diminish her opinion of him. He also hoped she would understand that he meant he wanted to marry her.

Brienne grinned. “Oh. I see.” She was not quite sure why she felt so relieved at the knowledge that he was single. She could not understand why she felt a twinge of jealousy toward the other women, the mothers of his children. She supposed it was the thought of someone else having such a connection with him. She herself had never thought of having a child with anyone before. Not even Jaime. Tonight, however, sitting so close to Tormund, staring into his eyes and being so candid, she thought perhaps...with him, it might be beautiful. Her cheeks blazed and she could not allow herself to finish her thought.

“What about you?” He asked, mesmerized by her. “It doesn’t seem that you’re one for settling down either.” He was trying to make polite small talk to ease her obvious discomfort, but Tormund regretted the statement the moment it left his throat.

To his relief Brienne had not interpreted his words in the callous way he thought they sounded. She nodded as though she felt it was a fair question. “Actually.” She began shyly, “I was betrothed three times when I was a girl.” She sighed to cover her embarrassment. “The first, when I was seven. He was to a boy of ten.”

“Seven?” Tormund was shocked. Even his people did not consider marriage for children that young.

“Yes.” Brienne confirmed. “We would have been married when I reached...” She was too embarrassed to tell him the details of the exact timing, that their marriage would have been consecrated upon her first bleeding time. “When I got a bit older.” She took another drink of wine to calm her nerves. “If he and his entire family had not become ill and died, I might not be sitting here with you now.” Tormund felt a little ashamed of himself as he thought that he had never been so glad to learn of the deaths of innocent strangers.

Brienne continued, recounting the painful details of her failed relationships. “A few years later, My father betrothed me to another young man, but he...did not care for...me. So he broke off the engagement.” She intentionally left out the part about Ser Ronnet Connington calling her a “freak”, but Tormund could tell there was more that she was not saying. He could not imagine anyone finding anything lacking in Brienne. Except for the pain that had been caused her, he was happy that particular young man had done just that. He noticed how Brienne’s voice grew more emotionless as she recounted each of her perspective husbands.

“Finally, when I was sixteen, my father promised me to a Lord of sixty-five.” Brienne reported.

“Sixty-five?” Tormund nearly choked on his wine.

“Yes.” Brienne sighed. “He told me he would demand I behave like a highborn lady, and forget my weapons and battles.” She smirked a little. “I said I would agree only if he could best me in combat.” She trailed off taking another sip of wine, almost enjoying this vision.

“I broke his collar bone, and two of his ribs.” She grinned. “He called off the engagement immediately, and after that Father stopped trying to find husbands for me.” Brienne grinned.

Tormund roared with laughter. He should have known Brienne would have her way. He was proud she had showed all of them what she was made of and had not backed down. More than anything, he was relieved. She could still be his. Once their laughter had subsided, Brienne’s face grew pained once more.

“The rest...you know.” Ashamed, her hands fell to her lap tracing the rim of her wine cup too vigorously.

Tormund nodded, trying not to look at her so he would not cause her more embarrassment. “The Kingkiller.” He replied dryly. Brienne acknowledged his assumption with a tilt of her head. He could feel her pain in even that gesture.

“You gave him your heart.” Tormund confirmed without judgment.

She chuckled bitterly. “Then he broke into a thousand pieces, and threw it back in my face.”

Brienne did not know why she suddenly felt the need to open her soul to him, and be so brutally honest. She had not spoken of Jaime with Tormund throughout their entire journey. She felt it only right somehow, now to address what they had both been thinking. She needed him to know that she was over Jaime Lannister, although she still carried the scars he had left behind.

“I thought he...” Brienne tried to begin. “I was sure...” She could not find the words. “I was a fool.” She cast her eyes downward, shaking her head with regret.

Tormund pictured the precious treasure of Brienne’s love. He imagined the gift of her heart being handed to him. How could anyone refuse it? Oh, what he would give to hold those shattered pieces in his grasp and call them his forever. For the second time that evening, Tormund wished he had been the one to drain Jaime Lannister’s life from him. He wanted to have slain the Kingslayer himself, not for the love Brienne had once held for the other man. He could accept that. He had accepted it. Tormund wished he could kill Jaime Lannister for the pain he had caused Brienne. His very muscles ached to cut the man in two. He had not realized his hands had clenched in two drawn fists as he stared into the fire. Brienne did notice.

With a great deal of effort, he let his fingers relax. His focus finding Brienne’s remorseful eyes once more. Gently, he reached up to caress her cheek and found the trail of a tear there. It broke his heart. He looked at her with so much love, that it took her breath away.

“No Brienne.” He said, gently bringing her eyes to his. “He was the fool.” He proclaimed, decidedly. “Nothing would make a man a bigger fool than being the one to ever walk away from holding you in his arms.” His deep penetrating gaze seemed to reach into her very soul. He wanted, more than anything to reach over and kiss her. There in that very moment to proclaim his undying love for her. All he could do was stare at her. 

Brienne could hardly breathe. She suddenly felt a rush of guilt, and realized that she had broken Tormund’s heart, in much the same way Jaime had damaged hers. Yet, he was the one sitting here with her now. He was the one staring at her, listening to her tale of unrequited love. He could have easily laughed at her and asked her how it felt, but he did not. He only wanted to encourage her, to ease her pain, to make sure she was alright. He seemed to hold no bitterness. His empathy and selfless compassion gave her faith. Perhaps he might still have feelings for her. Could it really be too much to hope that he still loved her?

Tormund knew that if he sat there any longer, holding Brienne’s beautiful face in his hand, fighting the trembling that threatened to betray him, that he would kiss her. He wanted to feel her soft lips against his. He was certain he could make her love him, if only she would give him a small chance. He watched her, watching him, and thought perhaps he saw some small light of feelings in her eyes as he beheld her. He hoped it was not simply what he wished to see. He reluctantly pulled away, not wanting to take advantage of the raw tender heart Brienne had just opened to him.

Instead of declaring his eternal and undying love to his beauty, he simply said, “You look tired. We should turn in.” An awkwardly casual statement given the previous nature of their conversation.

Brienne was relieved to be saved from herself, and the thoughts that threatened to take control of her actions at any moment. “Yes. We should.” She stammered. “Tomorrow will probably be another long day.”

Smiling shyly Brienne rose from her chair and stood by the bed, fumbling with the latches and laces on her armor and leathers. Her fingers lingered over the job longer than should have been necessary, and Tormund saw her face, once more, burn bright red. Finally, he realized she was trying to remove her clothes for bed, but was not used to doing so with an audience.

“I won’t look.” He laughed, and turned toward the opposite wall. “Let me know when you’re done.”

“Thank you.” Brienne answered, hurrying to remove her clothes down to her linen tunic and small cloth. She laid her outer clothing carefully at the foot of the bed, and scurried beneath the thick fur that covered the mattress, pulling it up to her chin.

“Alright.” She announced timidly.

Tormund turned and stifled a laugh at the site of Brienne trying so hard to hide herself from him. She looked around the room. “There’s only one fur, and no other blankets.” She lamented.

“I’ve slept on the open snow with less.” Tormund smiled, trying to calm her worry. He was still wearing his fur clothing after all. That would be plenty of protection from drafts.

Brienne smiled, and reached for the empty pillow next to her. “Here.” She said sweetly, tossing it across the room to him.

“Thanks.” He caught the pillow and spun it once more for good measure before dropping it on the floor by the fire. He took a few steps to blow out the candle on the table, and returned to the hearth to settle himself on the stone floor.

“Goodnight.” Brienne wished him thoughtfully.

“Sleep well.” He replied in what she thought was almost a loving tone. It made her smile as she nestled against the pillow.

Brienne did her best to relax and allow sleep to wash over her. The bed was soft and warm, and was a welcome relief from the uncomfortable hard ground to which she had grown accustomed. She laid in the dark listening to Tormund toss and turn on the hard stone floor. She told herself it would not be proper to share the bed with him. Surely, he would be asleep in a few minutes. Then just as the thought left her mind, and she began to drift off, he would reposition himself again. She had never felt so guilty in her life. Finally, she could take no more of it.

“Tormund!” Brienne sat up and called out to silence. “Tormund!” She tried again. No reply. “I know you’re awake.” She announced rolling her eyes.

“Oh.” He raised himself onto one elbow and pretended to be groggy. “What is it you need, My Lady?” He acted chivalrous.

“Come up, and share the bed with me.” Brienne offered. “There’s no reason you should sleep on the floor.”

“It’s fine.” He assured her.

“No it’s not.” Brienne corrected him. “You can’t sleep on the hard stone. “Please come up here.”

“I wouldn’t dream of dishonoring you, My Lady.” He teased.

Brienne gave him a frustrated glare. “Either, you come up here, or I’m coming down there on the floor with you. Is that what you want?” She hoped her threat would work.

After a few moments he stood up, grabbed the pillow he had beaten out of shape, and made his way to the bed. He bounced himself down on top of the covers, and swung the pillow beneath his head, somehow ending up facing Brienne, again on one elbow. “Happy now?” He joked.

“Yes. I am.” Brienne grinned, enjoying her victory.

“You do care.” He laughed.

Having been given cause to roll her eyes again, Brienne sighed. “Go to sleep.” She ordered before turning over and facing the other way. She did not want him to see her contented smile, as she drifted off to sleep.

Brienne awoke slowly in the late hours of the night with Tormund’s arm draped across her waist. She lay facing him, the fur that had covered her now pushed aside, and caught under his elbow. It was evident that they had both been sleeping so soundly that they had ended up entwined together when they had moved during their slumber. For a moment, that passed quickly Brienne was startled a little, but relaxed when she realized how inviting it felt to be wrapped in his arms.

Brienne lay in the dark thinking about Lady Chamilia’s misinterpretation of their relationship. She remembered her longing to kiss him earlier that evening, and how her attraction to him had grown until she was now certain she had feelings for him. Before she realized it, Brienne was gazing at Tormund’s sleeping face. His peaceful expression made her smile. The soft snores that emanated from his throat from time to time made her want to giggle. She let her mind wander to what life would be like if they really were...married. She felt she could easily get used to his care and concern, and she could not imagine anywhere could feel more pleasant than lying nestled against him in the warm darkness entwined in his embrace. Her thoughts drifted into dreams of him and she burrowed closer to his warmth, and fell asleep. Tormund’s body unconsciously sensed Brienne’s nearness. He sighed and drew her toward him in his sleep. She did not resist.

————————————————-  
Brienne awoke with the sunlight the next morning, to the memories of the happy sensual dreams that had swirled in her mind throughout the night...and an empty bed. She sat up, urgently searching for any sign of Tormund. There was none. Desperately, her mind traveled unbidden to another small sparse room in which she had awakened...alone.

‘No!’ She thought, her mind frantically trying to create a scenario to explain his absence. She was terrified that he had left her, the way Jaime had done.

‘He wouldn’t.’ She told herself. ‘Not him. He would never do that to me. Would he?’ Her mind raced with a million possibilities.

Brienne dressed quickly. She barely noticed her hands moving deftly over the buckles of her armor in her eagerness to find Tormund. She absentmindedly smoothed down her hair and rushed out of the door, leaving it standing open in her haste.

Finding no one in the Great Hall, Brienne decided to search outside. She bolted out of the main door and ran to the barn, expecting to find him saddling the horses. Her heart fell even further, when she found the outbuilding deserted. Not even the horses stood in their stalls, both were gone.

Brienne stood shocked, unable to determine her next course of action. She ran her hand through her hair in confusion, as she stared into the emptiness. A voice from behind her shook her from her thoughts.

“Your husband took both horses.” Brienne spun around to find Lady Chamilia smiling pleasantly up at her. “He asked me to tell you he would return by nightfall at the latest.”

“My husband...” Brienne had forgotten that the young woman had mistakenly assumed she and Tormund were a married couple. “Oh, yes.” She took a deep breath, partly to calm herself, but mostly out of relief that she had been wrong. He was coming back. “Did he say were he was going?” She asked.

Chamilia shook her head. “No. But he said he did not want to wake you.” She looked admiringly at Brienne. “He’s very kind. You two make a lovely couple.” She smiled.

Brienne blushed as Lady Chamilia continued. “Thank you.” She said, casting her eyes down. She felt remorseful for not telling the young woman the truth about her relationship with Tormund, yet part of her was enjoying the fantasy of being his wife.

Lady Chamilia laid a timid hand on Brienne’s wrist, and continued. “It is clear that you are very much in love with each other.” She remarked in awe.

Brienne smiled gratefully in response, but inwardly she was shocked. They had not even known they were presenting a charade until they retired to their single chamber the evening before. Nothing about their interaction before then had been a fiction. Perhaps they truly had grown close in their time together. Brienne did not realize that, lost in thoughts of Tormund, her face presented exactly the appearance Lady Chamilia had just described.

Brienne spent the day inspecting the tower house, and making necessary repairs to the living quarters of the house. She nailed boards against ancient broken windows. Young Allen assisted her in patching and filling cracks in door frames wide enough for small animals to walk through, while Lady Chamilia and Charlotte mended quilts and furs and heavy outerwear. No sooner was one job completed, than Brienne found another to occupy herself. Her anxious mind told her that her activity was in response to the needs of the family. Her heart, however, knew better. She needed to keep busy to distract herself from thoughts of Tormund and where he might be. Even through her work, she was driving herself crazy wondering what he was doing, and when he would come back. What would she do if nighttime arrived and he did not return?

Brienne’s heart raced faster as afternoon stretched into evening. The temperature began to drop, and the gray aura started to disappear from the sky. There was no point in attempting any further tasks in the failing light. Lady Chamilia could sense her agitation, and attempted to ease her mind.

“You have done so much for us.” Chamilia acknowledged. “Please allow me to prepare a hot bath for you, and perhaps he will have returned by the time you finish.”

Brienne looked thoughtfully at her. “Thank you, but..” Brienne was about to decline, not wanting to leave the yard, when the sound of a horse on the road that led to Frozen Heath drew their attention. She strained her eyes in the encroaching darkness to glimpse whoever it was that approached. Surely it had to be Tormund. She took a nervous step in the direction of the trail, and waited eagerly. Time seemed to stop, her breath refused to leave her lungs.

Finally, she could discern the outline of two horses trotting single file only inches from each other, and a sturdy rider. It took only a few seconds more for the moonlight to bathe wide shoulders clad in gray fur and fire red hair. Brienne closed her eyes in relief and felt the air rush back into her starved lungs as Tormund at last came riding into the yard.

He grinned widely at Brienne, happy to see her. As if only one day spent away from her was far too long. She raced to him. Part of her wanted to punch him for the worry he had caused her. However, most of her wanted to throw her aching arms around him and hold him close. She simply stopped short before reaching him and stared at him in wonder, her mind echoing ‘he came back.’ Then she noticed what had been the reason for his absence.

Both horses were laden with fresh killed game. Pheasants, turkeys, and rabbits hung from both saddles, and were heaped across wide haunches. Two large deer laid atop crude litters made of branches and pine bows, trailed behind each equine.

Tormund hopped lithely down from his saddle, and handed Allen and Charlotte both a fat rabbit as they crowded around him. He tousled their hair and nodded to Lady Chamilia, all the while never taking his eyes from Brienne. He noticed how she also could not remove her eyes from him, and reveled in her gaze.

“This is what you were up?” Brienne marveled.

Tormund shrugged his shoulders as if it were nothing at all. “Just an easy day’s hunt.” He laughed. Brienne rewarded him with a bashful, but proud snicker.

Tormund then turned to Lady Chamilia. “I’ll butcher and dress the game tonight.” He told her. “The meat should keep frozen in the barn rafters, and be out of reach of any scavengers.” He reported.

“How can we ever thank you?” Chamilia said in shock.

“Just see these young ones through the Winter.” He smiled.

Chamilia was unable to speak, but thanked him with glistening tear-filled eyes. She nodded her understanding vigorously. Taking her children gently by the shoulders, she guided them toward the house to prepare the hares for dinner.

Alone in the yard, Brienne and Tormund stood face to face and only inches apart. Their eyes held onto each other for a long while. Their hearts raced, but their bodies were unable to force themselves to draw closer. The hot steam of their breath mingled in the moonlight as if their very souls had left their bodies and were dancing above the frozen ground. It was Brienne who broke the silence.

“You just saved their lives.” She choked, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her eyes filling with tears.

“I had to do something.” He answered softly.

Suddenly, the distance between them was too far. Brienne reached out her trembling hand and laid it atop his forearm. Staring deep into his eyes she breathed in a low hushed tone, “You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever known.”

He moved closer to her, aching to kiss her. His arms yearned to be filled with her perfect frame. “You make me feel like I can do anything.” He admitted.

At that moment, one of the horses spirited from the cold and nervous with so much animal flesh across it’s back sputtered and pranced. The distraction brought Brienne and Tormund back to reality. They stepped apart from each other, fearing they had gone too far. At once nervous and self conscious, they could barely look at each other.

“I should start butchering the catch he said.” Turning toward the horses. “I don’t want you here while I’m cleaning it. I don’t want you to see that.” He told her, remembering her pained-filled story of being forced to slaughter the pigslets and lambs at her father’s house.

Brienne caught her breath, and looked up. She was touched by his concern for her. “Can’t you have a bite of dinner before you start?” She asked with care in her voice.

Tormund shook his head. “This will take most of the night as it is.” He told her.

She understood. “I’ll bring you a plate.” She said lovingly.

He nodded his thanks. “Now, go inside. It’s freezing.” He said, and turned to remove the spoils of his hunt from the horses’ backs. Brienne watched him a few moments more, and then turned to leave. Before she reached the door, she looked back to regard him in the moonlight. Why could she not let herself kiss him? She did not understand how something she wanted so desperately was so difficult for her. Would she ever be able to let down the barriers Jaime had created?

Brienne joined the Burgen family for the dinner Tormund had hunted for them. She partook of the feast in virtual silence, her thoughts on Tormund hard at work butchering the rest of his kill in the barn. As soon as the meal was over, Brienne prepared a heaping plate of rabbit and potatoes, covered it with a clean cloth to keep it warm, poured a large cup of wine and headed for the barn. She found that through a thin hinged panel beside the main door she was able to slip into the structure unseen and unheard. Settling into the shadows beside a tall stable post, Brienne realized that she had a vantage point which thankfully obscured her vision of the blood and carcasses over which Tormund worked, but still gave her an unhindered view of him.

He was silhouetted against a hearty fire he had built in a pit in the middle of the barn floor. He worked deftly slicing at a cut of meat that Brienne realized must be one the deer from the height of his reach. The fire had warmed the barn. He had removed his furs and tunic, and was clad in only his britches and boots. Her gaze lingered over his shirtless frame. He took her breath away. Heat emanated from roaring the fire. Steam escaped from the opened bodies of the animals he had slaughtered, and also rose from his own heated body as he worked. Although the air outside was frigid, as was that in which Brienne stood, we was drenched with slick glistening sweat, hard at work as he was. She was an undetected statue as she admired him. He was magnificent. Angular, defined muscles rolled along his chest and stomach, and ripple down his back. His thick strong arms worked as agilely as they did when he wielded his weapons on the battlefield. Her mouth had fallen open longingly, yet she could hardly breathe. She became aware of the warm wetness between her legs as her body reacted to its wanting of him. She swallowed hard at the pool of saliva that had gathered in the back of her throat. A reflex which shook her from her fantasy. She stood there shaken, trying to force her lungs to calm.

Completely unaware of his smitten audience of one, Tormund was making quick work of preparing the animals to store. It was easy to pass the time swiftly with his mind only half on the task at hand. His brain had provided him all day with the flawless memory of waking to find Brienne in his arms. Nestled against him, she must have moved nearer in the night for warmth. He was sure he would someday go to his pyre comforted by the thought of her thin tight frame nestled against his, as if she belonged to him. As he set out that day with thoughts of her still playing behind his eyes, Tormund had remembered the words he had proudly told Sandor Clegane about his hopes for a life with Brienne, about wanting her to be the mother of his children. He had spent the better part of the afternoon dreaming of how wonderful her rounded form, heavy with his child would feel pressed against his body. As he worked this night he had given into a dream state and imagined she was his wife, and he was preparing the victories of his hunt to sustain their family through the long cold Winter. He hoped she would someday be able to step out from behind the walls someone else had built around her heart. He would wait as long as it took.

It was then that Brienne stepped onto the path that led to him, carrying the plate of food she had brought. She cleared her throat and softly spoke his name. He looked up from his work, and reaching for his tunic rushed to meet her, eager to block her view from the unpleasantness of the kill that would trigger painful memories for her. In a few steps, he had covered himself with his tunic, and stood breathless in front on her. They found it hard to meet each other’s eyes, at first, both embarrassed by the ramblings of their private thoughts.

Finally, Brienne held the plate out to him, and smiled shyly. “I brought you something to eat.” Brienne gasped.

He took it from her gratefully. “Thank you.” Tormund replied, uncharacteristically nervous and unable to meet her stare.

“I could...keep you company...while you eat.” Brienne offered, hopefully.

“That would be nice.” He agreed with a reassuring smile.

They sat together on a nearby bench. Tormund careful to keep their backs toward any view of the kill. As he brought a crisp toasted rabbit’s leg to his mouth, he realized there was blood on his hand. Embarrassed he quickly wiped it on his pant leg. Brienne pretended not to see.

They sat in silence for a while as he ate. Although she did not mean to take extra from their hosts, Brienne knew he would be hungry from his day and evening of exertion, and had piled his plate high. He was grateful. Sitting together on the bench, their shoulders touched in the darkness. Although perhaps it should have caused them awkwardness, they both felt their bodies relax and their timidness begin to fade. It was as if they should always be this way.

When he had finished, Tormund threw back the last gulp of wine from the generous cup Brienne had brought him. “Would you like me to stay with you while you work?” She asked sweetly.

‘Gods Yes!’ He wanted to beg, but simply smiled at her thoughtfulness. “No. You go to bed and get some rest.” Was what he told her. She nodded in agreement, but knew that she would get no sleep until he did, until he was lying beside her. A few minutes later, Brienne walked the empty plate back to the kitchen, accompanied by the slicing and scraping sounds of Tormund resuming his work. She rinsed the pewter and replaced it on the shelf. She then wrapped her cloak around her shoulders, and walked back out into the yard. She would wait to seek warmth and slumber until he had finished his task.

Later that night. Brienne saw the fire being put out in the barn. She hurried upstairs to the chambers she would again share with Tormund with several pails of water to warm in the fire. She had already secured a bathing tub from Lady Chamilia, which she had also positioned near the hearth, fresh linens hanging over its rim. To avoid further embarrassment, and to allow him privacy, Brienne hurried to disrobe. She quickly washed herself in the basin which was kept on the stand across the room, and climb beneath the fur on the bed. She had every intention of waiting up for him, but so warm was the bed and so comforting was the thought that he would soon join her, that she drifted into a welcome sleep just as Tormund entered the chamber exhausted.

He grinned widely to himself when he found the tub and waiting pails of hot water. He looked adoringly toward Brienne knowing she was the one who had left it for him. He walked to the bed, and stood watching her sleep. He could scarcely believe how much he loved her. Somehow he would find a way to help her forget the past. He chuckled at the thought that no matter who had hurt her, it was him with her now. He had been given the chance to heal her, to earn her trust, and to show her that she was more worthy of love than she ever imagined. He had no intention of squandering the precious gift the he had been given.

Tormund did not see Brienne awaken as he turned and walked back to the fire. She lay quiet and still as a mouse, her brilliant blue eyes hidden in the shadows as she watched him begin to remove his soiled clothes. For a moment she felt she should make a noise or say something to alert him that she was watching, for the sake of respectability. However, she found the site in front of her so enticing that all she could do was stare. Her lustful gaze traveled along the angles of his body, more of it visible than she had seen in the barn. She imagined running her fingers through the hair on his chest. She could almost feel his warm smooth skin upon her fingertips that would trail down his muscular ribs, around his back, and down to grasp his taught buttocks as she wrapped her legs around him.

The golden firelight fell upon his naked body as he quietly filled the tub. Brienne could clearly see the size of him between his legs as he stepped into the water and slid down into the warmth. She caught her breath imagining him inside her. For the second time that night she felt her body react to the sight of him with an warm yearning rush. Her own desire needed satiation. Without making a sound, she slid her hand down her stomach to her hips. Her body on fire for him, two fingers glided into her small cloth and along the path of her own pleasure to find the place that drove her wild with sensation. She moved her fingers deftly, working herself as she pictured him in her mind. Reaching deeper, she imagined it was him entering her. Forcing her body to control the shuttering she knew would come and quieting her breathing in the furs, she reached her summit with another glorious release. Certain she had been silent and that he had not heard, Brienne drifted off to sleep satisfied from her own passions.

Tormund lingered in the warm tub, scrubbing himself, his back to Brienne. He understood that she wanted him to think her sleeping. He knew she thought herself silent. However, she had forgotten his keen ears that had heard the rabbits she had not even seen on their first day of journeying together. He knew exactly what she was doing under the furs of the bed they would share again this night. A happy smile gleemed on his face. He congratulated himself that it was the image of him to which his lady fair was pleasuring herself. She could have given him no greater gift. There was a chance. Brienne did have a yearning for him, just as he did for her.

He finished his bathing, dried and dressed once more in his furs, and walked slowly to the bed. He stood again watching her sleep, and reveling in her beauty. Someday he would show her passions she could not imagine. This night, however, he simply lay down beside her, gathered her his arms and drew her close. Unconsciously, Brienne sensed him in the darkness. She nestled close to him and burrowed into his neck under his chin, still asleep. He kissed her hair, and contentedly closed his eyes. His body and mind drained from his day’s work, he soon joined her in slumber. They spent the night wrapped together, and dreaming of each other.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne realizes the depths of her feelings for Tormund.

Brienne and Tormund had left Frozen Heath early in the morning, just after sunrise, and had ridden all day to reach the edge of The North. Now, Castle Black loomed ahead of them, and behind it even more imposing, towered the soaring seven hundred foot Wall. Brienne had always thought the ancient castle foreboding and dire. As they got closer she noticed Tormund was beaming.

“Does this place really make you that happy?” She looked at him with confusion.

“Just the memory of it?” He chuckled. Then he grew intensely serious and turned toward her. “It’s the first place I ever saw you.”

Suddendly shy, Brienne bit her bottom lip and cast her eyes down blushing. His mention of the recollection brought the image clearly to her mind. She saw again, how he had stood transfixed as she passed him on horseback. She had found his flirtations annoying then. Now, she could not understand why she had been unable to see the depth of his feelings behind them, and why she fought so hard to push him away.

Brienne’s bashful demeanor disappeared and was replaced by a playful smile at another memory. It was of Tormund staring seductively at her over the meal that had been brought to them while Jon and Sansa talked strategy. “I wonder if they will be serving bread with dinner this evening.” She teased. Tormund howled with laughter.

They rode into the busy courtyard of Castle Black. The Night’s Watchmen eyed them wearily, as they usually did when unexpected travelers arrived. As Tormund climbed down from his horse and then steadied Brienne’s mount while she jumped to the ground to join him, several of the guards recognized him and nodded. He stepped closer to Brienne and puffed himself up proudly, certain that every man in the yard suffered from an incurable case of jealousy over his ravishing companion.

“Tormund!” A loud voice called from across the compound. Brienne looked up to see Jon Snow’s hand raised in greeting as he bounded down the stairs.

Tormund’s smile widened, happy to see his friend. He strode across the compound, and they embraced as brothers. Brienne walked slowly a few paces behind, allowing them their reunion. She was glad Tormund knew such friendship.

“Going south or north?” Tormund laughed to Jon.

“I’m on my way back to Winterfell.” Jon reported. “I’ve spent some time with your clan. I told them you should be returning soon.” Tormund nodded as Jon turned his attention to Brienne.

“Ser Brienne.” He said smiling respectfully and bowing slightly. “I trust this old bear hasn’t made your journey too difficult.” He joked.

Brienne returned his greeting with a pleasant smile, and graced Tormund with an unintentional endearing look. “Not at all.” She answered. “Quite the opposite.” Jon noticed the decidedly more relaxed and friendly manner in which Brienne treated Tormund now, much more so than when he had last seen them leaving Winterfell. He grinned hopefully at Tormund, who shrugged in reply.

Although Jon was no longer Lord Commander at Castle Black, his reputation, and the lingering loyalty of many of the brothers almost made it seem as if he were. If he gave an order, it was followed. He gestured for two of the younger Night’s Watchmen to see to the horses. “Let’s go inside and warm up. We can talk better in there.” Jon suggested. Motioning for Brienne to take the lead, Jon walked beside Tormund. Clapping his old friend on the back, Jon’s eyes smiled questioningly. He was eager to see if Bran had indeed been correct, and simple time together would ignite the passion between Tormund and Brienne. Again Tormund shrugged, but his joyous grin and upswept brows told Jon that perhaps things were falling into place. Jon laughed and shook his head as they walked into mess hall.

Inside the dark age stained hall, a table was already waiting with steaming bowls of stew, and a pile of bread. Brienne recalled the first time she and Tormund had shared a meal there. She could not control the snicker that came to her throat at the vision of his face buried in nearly half a loaf of bread eyeing her suggestively. Tormund understood the reason for her amusement and joined her in laughter at their shared memory. Jon noticed how comfortable they had become with each other, and how close they sat together. He realized that whatever their laughter had been about, it was not the only personal amusement they shared. The thought made him happy.

“It appears you two have been quite successful with the Northern Houses.” Jon complimented.

“Yes.” Brienne nodded. “I hope Queen Sansa is pleased with our progress.”

“I’m sure she is.” Jon agreed. “I’ll be continuing on to Winterfell tomorrow.” He continued. “I’ll give her all the details then.” He smiled.

“How is the feeling up North?” Tormund asked, wondering about the sentiments of his people in his absence.

“Most support House Stark’s position on unification. They just want to hear it from you.” Jon reported. Brienne listened intently. Jon’s description of the Free Folk’s reliance on Tormund’s opinion again painted a different picture than the one she had originally sensed of him. She had seen herself what a brilliant and reliable leader he was. Apparently, it was a role he was used to in his own clan. She was suddenly very proud of him as she followed the conversation.

“There are a few hold outs.” Jon continued.

“They’ll come around when I get up there.” Tormund grunted, his usual cockiness returning. He rested his hand on the hilt of his weapon for good measure.

Jon laughed heartily and nodded. “I have no doubt.” He agreed. Brienne could not take her eyes from the Tormund.  
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Later that evening, Brienne and Tormund were shown to their separate quarters. Since the rooms were outfitted for visitors, the chambers were larger and better furnished than the typical rooms occupied by the Watchmen. There was a warm roaring fire in each, a table and chairs upon which sat a pitcher of wine and pewter mugs. A thick fur covered the floor in front of each hearth, and the beds, although single, seemed well stuffed and comfortable.

Never one to stay cooped up inside for too long, Tormund took an impatient glance around his chamber and threw the door open, stomping off in search of his friend, Jon Snow. He found the pensive young man hunched over a tankard of ale by the fire in the mess hall. Tormund slammed his thick hand over Jon’s shoulder in greeting. Jon winced but was not surprised.

“I figured you’d be back.” Jon laughed, tossing a drinking skin at Tormund as he joined him on the bench.

“This what I think it is?” Tormund’s eyes grew even brighter.

“Hmmm.” Jon nodded, as Tormund tore the cork out of the bag with his teeth, and began to greedily down the white liquid. “Finest vintage. Made by the best goats in the North.” Jon chuckled.

“That it is, my friend.” Tormund smiled, trails of the fermented concoction still dribbling down his beard.

Jon studied his friend for a moment. If he did not know better it would seem nothing ever brought Tormund down from his perpetual lust for life. However, he had seen otherwise for himself. Jon recalled how the man had been shattered to watch Brienne walk off with the Kingslayer so many nights ago at Winterfell. He hoped things were starting to turn in his friend’s favor.

“So.” Jon began. “How goes the wooing?” He smiled, hopeful for Tormund’s sake.

“She’s putty in my hands.” Tormund joked.

Jon rolled his eyes. “Seriously, are you doing what I told you.” He asked, afraid that once alone with Brienne, Tormund had forgotten Jon’s impromptu lessons about how to court a southern woman. He had lectured Tormund nearly all the way from the clan’s camp to Winterfell when it was decided he would speak for Jon on the mission.

“Come on.” Tormund played it cool. “Of course. I’m taking it slow, and easy.” He grinned. “Don’t want to scare her off this time.” He smiled, but his face held more of a sad gaze for far too long, and it worried Jon.

“What?” Jon asked.

Tormund shook his head. “That fucking Lannister cunt hurt her far worse than I expected. She’s all closed up inside. I think she’s even hiding from herself.” He said softly.

“That’s why she needs you.” Jon was sympathetic.

“I don’t know if she’ll let me in.” Tormund lamented.

Jon understood. “Just keep trying.” He encouraged.

Tormund took another swig from the drinking skin, and stared into the fire before responding. “I love her, Jon.” He said, a wistful smile finding his eyes at the thought of Brienne. “I just don’t want her to hurt. I want her to be happy. Even if she doesn’t want to be with me, I can’t bare to see her in pain.” His care and compassion for Brienne shown overwhelmingly on his worried face.

“That’s exactly how I know she will want to be with you.” Jon smiled. “Give it some more time. She’ll come around. Sansa said that Brienne is not used to being the center of someone’s attention. It may take awhile, but she will see how much you care for her.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder.

“I hope you’re right.” Tormund responded. A wistful expression finding his face.

Jon held up his cup of ale. He gave Tormund a wide smile, unwilling to allow any doubt to show on his face. “To true love.” Jon toasted.

Tormund beamed hopefully and raised his drinking skin to meet Jon’s gesture. “To Brienne!” He answered. After which, the two friend sat for sometime, drinking in silence.  
——————————-  
Brienne stood staring into the flames of the hearth in her quarters for some time. The heat from the fire flushed her cheeks and nearly made her sweat, however she suddenly felt chilled and very alone. She had tried to sleep, but the bed felt empty. Her mind went unbidden to memories of her journey with Tormund. Brienne had not realized how she had grown used to his presence. Images of the room they shared at Frozen Heath filled her busy mind. A smile came to her lips picturing how they had nestled together in the only bed. She missed his arms around her as she slept. She saw his face as clearly as if he stood beside her. She heard his voice whispering in her ear, and her heart grew happy at the thought of him.

The wall that separated their chambers might as well have been a hundred miles thick. Brienne walked slowly to the partition that kept them from each other. She leaned against the plaster and laid her hand softly atop the ancient woodwork, her body trying to sense him on the other side. Feeling nothing but foolish, she chastised herself. However, her mind and her heart refused to give her rest. As tears began to fall, she now understood the depth of emotion that had grown within her for him. Standing in the cold darkness without him, and longing for his presence, Brienne realized what she could no longer deny. She loved him. Somewhere in their travels, somehow in their time together, Brienne and fallen in love with Tormund. She prayed she had not waited too long. She hoped that despite all her previous protests, he still held the same feelings for her.

Her mind was working overtime. Brienne suddenly felt as though she were going to crawl out of her skin. The walls in her quarters seemed like they were closing in on her. She needed fresh air to help her think. Wearing only her britches and tunic, having stripped her armor off when she entered the room, Brienne quickly slid on her boots. Grabbing the cloak she had absentmindedly discarded earlier, she threw the heavy fabric around her shoulders, hurled open the door, and stepped out into the frozen night.

The cold hit Brienne’s face and stole the breath from her lungs. She did not care. Her thoughts of Tormund had already left her breathless. The sensation invigorated her body, and cleared her mind. Drawing the door to her quarters closed behind her, Brienne spun around and tried to take a step in the opposite direction, eager to be anywhere but in her stifling room. Her progress was stopped as she ran into the wall of Tormund’s chest.

He had chosen that moment to return from drinking with Jon. Tormund had assumed that Brienne was already sleeping, and had not expected to see her. His face registered his pleasant surprise as he reached out and took her by the elbows to steady her. She was shocked to see him, but not displeased.

“Can’t sleep?” He smiled at her.

Brienne caught herself in his strong grasp. “What?” She questioned. “Uhm. No.” She meant that her lack of sleep had not been her reason for leaving her chamber, but she did not protest at his misunderstanding. Perhaps it gave her a more plausible excuse. Coming back to herself, she smiled nervously at him.

“Join me?” Tormund motioned toward his quarters. Brienne nodded in eager response.

Tormund placed his hand lightly on Brienne’s back and guided her into his room. He could think of no better way to end the evening than sitting by the fire with her. He had other thoughts as well. Tormund wanted nothing more than to spend a passionate night making love to Brienne. He remembered his talk with Jon just a few moments earlier, about being patient, and forced his deepest desires to the back of his mind. He would have to be satisfied simply enjoying time with her, for now. Once inside, Brienne turned and waited for him as he secured the door. He removed the heavy fur he wore and took her cloak, laying them both on the bed. She watched him, savoring his every move. Brienne could not remember the last time she had felt so nervous. Yet, being there with him and finally realizing that she was in love with him, she also could not recall a time she felt more comfortable. Spurred by the closeness they shared and eager to show him how she felt, Brienne could no longer stand the distance between them.

As he turned from the bed to pour them each a cup of wine, she crossed the room and stood in front of him, halting his momentum. Grabbing his biceps with her trembling hands, she braced herself to him. “I missed you.” She declared. Unsure, and disbelieving her own actions, but wanting so desperately to be close him, Brienne pressed her hungry lips against Tormund’s mouth and kissed him.

Tormund stood there, unable to move, the world spinning as he tasted Brienne’s magnificent lips. He was shocked, but it was the tentative stupor of finally being given everything he wanted most, and being afraid that if he moved it was would all disappear. He could not afford to take any risks. Even if this was exactly what she wanted, he had to be certain. He could barely bring his own lips to meet hers. Never before had he been so affected by a woman. Never had he been so sure of his feeling, and yet so uncertain of his actions. He felt like an awkward boy, fumbling through his first time. The feel of her body against his was almost too good to be true, and he froze. He was terrified of making a wrong move with her. He prayed Brienne would not misinterpret his reaction. She did.

Brienne realized that Tormund was not reacting to her nearness. Shaken, she pulled back from him, searching his eyes. Her expression registered her confusion and hurt as she drew her hands from his arms and brought them up to cover her mouth. Suddenly horrified by the realization of her actions, Brienne could only stare at him. She stood there numb for a moment, and then backed away from him in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.” She begged, mortified. “Forgive me.” She felt the need to run, and turned to flee.

As she moved toward the door, Tormund caught Brienne gently by the wrist and brought her around to face him. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be close to you, holding you, kissing you.” He admitted. “The last thing in this world I want would be to hurt you.” His love filled eyes met hers. “Are you sure?” He asked her lovingly, caressing her cheek.

For a moment Brienne could not speak. All she could do was nod, unable to take her eyes from his. She was awed by the depths of his caring for her. In that moment she realized why he had not met her kiss the way she had hoped, and she loved him even more for it. He had wanted her to be completely assured of them, and totally comfortable. She mirrored his motions and brought her hands to his face. “I have never been more sure of anything in my life.” She smiled, tears coming to her eyes.

Drawing Brienne closer to him, Tormund wrapped his arms around her and kissed her long and slow. The sweet luscious taste of her lips drove him mad. He needed more of her. Brienne reveled in his kiss, as their tongues hungrily explored the depths of their mouths. She pressed her aching body against his and still found that she could not get close enough to satisfy her yearning for him.

Finally, their faces parted, but not far. Their breath still mingled together, and their desperate fingers still clung to each other. Brienne’s eyes searched Tormund’s. As if reading each other’s minds, their hands began to work together untying laces, and opening the closures of their garments as their breath came in lustful pants, and their tongues probed the other’s mouth. Tormund reached beneath Brienne’s tunic, sliding the fabric seductively up over her arms until she stood naked before him, a vision. The glory of her perfect breasts bared to him. His lips left hers, and he trailed kisses down her neck to where his tongue and teeth began to expertly work her hard nipples, eliciting the most luxurious gasp from her throat. Her hands worked blindly to undo the waist of his britches.

Slowly, softly, her trembling hand glided down into the front of his pants, searching for her prize. Upon reaching her intended goal, she found him already hard for her. A knowledge which brought a warm rush from between her own legs. Carefully she grasped him, and began to work her hand up and down his erect shaft, wanting to feel him inside her. Unable to wait any longer, he tore his own tunic off over his head while she slid her britches down her legs and left them in a pile on the floor. She stood before him in only her small cloth. Taking her hips in his hands, he disrobed her of it with only a few flicks of his wrist. She stood holding his shoulders, and pressing her breasts against his hairy chest as he turned his attentions to the other inviting parts of her body.

Deftly he reached one hand between her legs, while he balanced her with his other arm wrapped around her shoulders. His touch on her sensitive private skin brought a delighted shutter to her entire body. Her arms went around his neck, and her hands ran through his hair as he worked her delicate folds. The most enticing moans came to her lips when his fingers disappeared inside her. Brienne’s breath caught in her throat as Tormund worked the needful places deep inside her. She rocked against his fingers, begging for more. His motions intensified until she released another wave of warm fluid over his hand. She fell against him almost in a trance of pleasure, as he brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted her.

“Delicious.” He declared. She smiled wickedly at him.

Carefully, Tormund lifted Brienne in his arms and carried her to the fur that covered the floor by the hearth. Gently he laid her down, and settled himself to join her. She watched him in passionate awe as he brought himself down atop her. As if separated for far too long, they kissed each other greedily once more. His warm hands cupped her breasts as he tasted the skin on her neck. Bringing his face up to hers, their eyes held each other as he traced his fingers along her stomach, and again began to work the sensitive nerves between her legs. Brienne wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly, throwing her head back in ecstasy and sighing deeply with want. She moaned passionately as she came for him again. Finally, he could wait no longer. He needed to be inside her. He lifted up slightly, and moved himself level with her. Brienne felt him hard between her legs, and gasped with longing. She kissed him lustfully once more, and spread her legs for him, beckoning him to her. His approach was met with a warm wet invitation, and he happily accepted, entering her softly and slowly. She inhaled exquisitely, and tilted her head back luxuriating at the feel of him within her. In the dim light, their hungry mouths searched for each other. Finding their intended goals, they urgently tasted the hot sweetness each other.

Brienne groaned in pleasure as he fit himself into her, an act which told Tormund she was ready. He began to work his hips against her, a low lustful growl escaping his throat at the feel of her. Rhythmically he probed deeper into her, and retreated, probed and retreated until Brienne was gasping and close to screaming from the wonderful force of him inside her. He continued his thrusting, and moaned at the feel of her beneath him. She had not realized a man could last so long. She was nearly losing her mind from the intensity of his passion. Needing more of her, he drew her legs up around him as their hot wanting breath mingled in a frenzy of kisses. Her legs wrapped around him caused him to drive deeper inside her. Automatically, she threw her head back and wailed long and loud at the intense sensation. Her fingers clamping onto his back. The sound drove him wild, and he could wait no longer. He needed to fill her. They rode the last few hard thrusts of passion before they climaxed. Their chests heaving, their lungs starved for oxygen, and dizzy from their love making Brienne and Tormund collapsed against each other on the fur, still caught in a passionate embrace.  
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Brienne’s awareness returned to her early the next morning. The sounds of activity in the courtyard stirred her gently from her sleep. She lay for a moment, her eyes still closed, as the memories of her passion with Tormund returned to her. She could feel the sturdiness of his body still pressed against hers. His strong arms still enwrapped her. She could feel his breath on her skin. Yet, she never wanted to open her eyes. She was terrified that if she lifted her eye lids on the cold light of day, that it would all disappear...like it had before. She could not bare to lose him.

As she summoned the courage to open her eyes, Brienne felt Tormund’s hand rub against the arm she had draped across his chest. Now was the time, she could stall no longer. Brienne carefully opened her eyes, almost in dread, but found him there. He was smiling at her as he held her in his arms. Gently he bent his neck and kissed her hair. Her worst fear had been simply a specter left by someone else. This man, she could trust. He was truly hers. He would not leave her. He loved her, and she loved him. Brienne’s apprehension was replaced by a sleepy affectionate smile as she beheld him.

“Morning.” He greeted her. A relaxed laziness in his voice.

“Hmm. Good Morning.” Brienne answered back, lost in his embrace. His nearness emboldened her once more. She raised herself slightly on her elbow and reached to kiss him. Tormund met her advance eagerly, and soon one kiss was not enough. Their morning explorations threatened to explode into heated fervor once more. Both willing, both wanting, they reluctantly forced themselves to separate as the clamor from the courtyard below told them the morning was slipping away. They had wanted to be underway by now, in order to be deep into the North by nightfall.

Tormund raised himself to a seated position bringing Brienne with him. He sat for a moment behind her, kissing her back. His arms wrapped around her middle. “I suppose...we should...get moving.” He told her between skimming his lips across her skin.

Brienne leaned her head back against his. “You’re making it very difficult.” She smiled dreamily, placing her hands over his at her waist, holding him in place.

An exaggerated frustrated sigh burst from his mouth, and trailed down Brienne’s spine. “Fine.” Tormund acquiesced. Moving around to face her, he kissed her mouth long and slow one more time. “But, you owe me.” He said as he stood and pulled her to her feet.

“Gladly.” She flirted, smiling passionately at him.

Tormund handed Brienne her clothes and began to dress himself. He watched with regret as she covered the splendor of her body. He was certain he would never come down from the joy of her. Once they had dressed, he walked her to the entry. She needed to return to her empty chambers to gather the belongings she had left there. When the door had opened, they found themselves exposed to the stares of all the watchmen in the yard. Neither cared as they shared a final passionate kiss. The brothers knew better than to make any commotion over it, though many passed a few amazed glances at each other. Jon, who was busy packing his saddlebags for his return trip to Winterfell, also witnessed the exchange. Happy for his friend, he merely grinned and shook his head. He should have known the old bear would get what he wanted eventually. It seemed Brienne had as well. He was overjoyed for them both.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling in the True North far beyond the wall, Brienne and Tormund find both passion and danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> North of The Wall at last! I hope you will recognize the same thermal spring cave that Jon and Ygritte shared in the show. I also wanted to parallel a particularly dangerous scene between Brienne and Jaime, this time with Tormund as her protector. Enjoy.

Brienne and Tormund crossed through the long icy passageway that cut the thickness of the Wall, out under the large ancient gate, and into the frozen True North later that morning. They rode close together, the night of passion they had shared ever present on their minds. Their progress was slow as they enjoyed merely being in each other’s presence. They trudged through the thickly wooded forest that stretched for miles from the Wall. Brienne had never before been this far North. She felt she should be a little apprehensive in such a wild and untamed place. What surprised her most was how comfortable she felt, as if something was welcoming her to a somewhere she always should have been. She told herself, that surely it was due to her newfound relationship with her traveling companion. Unaware of her expression as she watched him, Brienne smiled warmly at Tormund as they made their way along the snow covered path. He turned to meet her gaze, and his eyes as he looked at her held the same arduous fascination. Holding out his gloved fingers to her, she took his grasp eagerly. They rode the last yards through the forest hand in hand.

As they left the snowy canopy, Tormund turned his horse in a direction Brienne had not anticipated. She looked at him questioningly. “I want to show you something.” His smile was mysterious and a bit mischievous. Brienne nodded in reply. She was intrigued and she trusted him implicitly.

They traveled along a narrow pass that rose above a shallow valley. The shadowed sun was beginning to skim the top of the distant mountains as they rounded a small rise. Suddenly, the valley below fell off and opened to what seemed like the entire vista to the horizon. Even the hillsides surrounding them made way to the expanse which presented itself. Everything that stretched from her horse’s hooves to the border between the land and sky was pure white, except where the dying light turned it silver, or purple. Even the air, thick with ice crystals seemed to sparkle. Brienne stared transfixed by the natural beauty of the unfamiliar new world in which she found herself. It suited her. Tormund could not take his eyes from her.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.” Brienne whispered amazed and unable to look away.

‘I have.’ Tormund thought to himself as he watched Brienne. She noticed he was watching her, and brought her eyes to meet his. Realizing that she herself was the point on which his gaze was frozen, Brienne looked down bashfully. He reached out to take her face in his hand and leaned from his saddle to meet her lips tenderly. She met his kiss with an equally passionate intensity.

When their breath had left them, they reluctantly parted. Looking into each other’s eyes, they felt as if they were the only two people in the entire world. After a few moments, Brienne suddenly shivered. Her heart was warm, but her body was not. Evening was beginning to take over the landscape, and colder air was settling on the ground. It seemed to her that the temperature had fallen fifty degrees on this side of The Wall, but she had been so mesmerized by discovery, and so happy to be alone with Tormund that she had barely noticed for the most of the day, until now.

Tormund reached behind him and removed the fur from the bedroll he had tied to his horse’s saddle. He shook it open to its full length and wrapped it around Brienne. “I know a place to get you warm.” He smiled at her.

They rode on for a short distance, the light beginning of escape them. Tormund checked Brienne constantly, as he steered his horse through stands of trees and large outcroppings of rock. She followed him diligently and each time met his worried face with an encouraging smile. At last, they came upon the hidden dark opening of a small cave. Tormund drew his horse to a stop and Brienne followed, doing the same. Climbing down from their saddles they tied their mounts just outside the entrance. Brienne noticed a warmth emanating from the cave, and looked puzzled. Tormund put his arm around her and kissed her.

“Trust me.” He laughed drawing his sword. She nodded, interested to discover this secret, and drew her blade in response.

The first few feet of the cave were still lit with the remnants of evening from outside. Together Tormund and Brienne surveyed their surroundings to ensure that some ferocious animal had not made the grotto its den. Then, satisfied that they were safe, the two new lovers made a fire that illuminated the rest of the cave. The light washed over surfaces that had been hidden in the dark. Brienne gasped when she saw the lovely blue water of the pool that filled half of the natural cavern. Inviting steam rose from the warm turquoise ripples, and heated the entire cave.

Tormund stepped closer to Brienne and began to remove her armor, and clothes. She stood still in anticipation, allowing him to take the lead. He set her armor carefully on the ground beside the pool, and folded her tunic, laying it on a nearby boulder. As he bent to remove her boots and britches he brushed a kiss across her skin just below her belly button. She gasped and giggled as his whiskers tickled her and his lips sent a shudder through her hips that found its way between her legs. His hands followed the curves of her body as he stood. Face to face once more, Tormund drew Brienne close to him, while the lips that had just made her tingle found her neck. Brienne fit herself around him, and then leaned her head back presenting more of herself to him. As he nuzzled her collarbone and played with her skin, she exhaled with such pure pleasure that he could feel his own body begin to react.

“Mind if I join you?” He teased.

She smiled widely. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Brienne answered happily, visualizing the evening ahead.

He did not take his eyes from hers as he removed his garments. Brienne felt her own body answer his unspoken call as she watched him. She smiled at him and it took his breath away. He placed her hands gently in his, and walked backward guiding her carefully into the warm inviting water. She glided into the pool, letting the heat rise into her very core. Brienne closed her eyes and rolled her neck as she relaxed into the ripples playing off the edges of the rocks that surrounded them. Tormund found himself overcome just watching her.

They floated together only inches from each other, their toes barely touching the bottom, their hands clasped together never leaving one another. For a long while they said nothing, simply enjoying the closeness of each other. Again, it seemed they were the only two people that had ever existed. Unable any longer, not to touch her, Tormund reached out and stroked back a piece of Brienne’s hair that had fallen into her eyes. She leaned into his hand, glorying in his touch.

He exhaled slowly, hypnotized by her. “You are so beautiful.” He affirmed, unable to take his eyes from her.

Brienne suddenly grew still at his words. Her eyes, which threatened to brim with tears, fell from his face. Her shoulders dropped in defeat. “Oh please.” She begged, shaking her head dejectedly. “Don’t call me that.” She implored.

Innately sensing Brienne’s distress, Tormund grew worried. “Why? What’s wrong?” He asked concerned, still refusing to let go of her hands which floated limply in the water.

Brienne looked away, ashamed. She took a breath to begin to explain why she could not bare his complement, but found she could not make a voice reach her lips. He moved closer to comfort her, sliding his hands up her arms. He glided his reassuring touch from her fingers to her elbows, and then up further to draw her into his embrace. Somehow, perhaps bolstered by his reassuring touch, Brienne found the courage to tell him her painful memories.

“No one that I’ve ever known has considered me...beautiful.” She confessed, still unable to lift her face to him. “From the time I was a girl, everyone sneered at me and laughed at me.” Her eyes were distant recalling her past. “Finally, they became even more cruel. Brienne the Beauty, they called me. Never to my face, mind you. Always behind my back. Of course, they could not openly insult The Evenstar’s daughter.” She paused, choking on the recollection. “It was far from a compliment.” She recounted bitterly. “It was a joke. I was a joke.” Brienne said, her voice failing to a whisper. Tormund’s blood began to boil at those who had tortured Brienne. He wished he could tear them all limb from limb with his bare hands. His heart ached for her.

“I have never fit the southern ideal of beauty, and no one ever let me forget it.” Brienne tried to peer at him bravely through her heavy eyes, but knew her efforts fell terribly short. The tears which rested upon her lashes were evidence of her pain. 

Tormund did not say a single word for quite a while. He made no sound at all. He simply laid his forehead against Brienne’s and held her close, hoping just the act of his affection could cure all of her hurt. He knew it that truly it could not. She grabbed his wrists and leaned into him, happy he was not backing away.

“Don’t you see.” He whispered. “That’s exactly what makes you so...” He paused, trying to think of a different phrase that would not cause her grief, but he could not. There was no other way to describe her. “...Beautiful.” Tormund pronounced, intent on reclaiming for her the only word that would do justice to the woman he loved. He grinned as he shook his head, unable to imagine anything in the world more breathtaking than the woman before him.

“You southerners, and your silly ideas.” He smirked. “Why would anyone want some frail pitiful little thing who can do nothing but sit by the fire and sew, or who would die bringing a man’s children into the world?” He laughed heartily. “Up North, we like our women to be strong so they can fight alongside us, and protect our families, and kick our asses.”

He playfully nudged Brienne’s forehead once more before he brought his lips to hers and kissed her tenderly. When their lips parted, he gazed at her earnestly. “Please try to understand.” He begged. “When I call you that, it is only because you are the lovliest, most extraordinary vision I have ever laid my eyes upon.” He smiled, in awe of her.

When Brienne looked up at him, her eyes were filled with tears. As she raised her face large droplets slid from behind her lids and trailed down her cheeks, dripping into the water. Overcome with love for him, and amazed at the depth of his love for her, Brienne was suddenly filled with shame. She looked intently at Tormund and her pained expression worried him.

“I have to ask you something.” She prefaced nervously.

“Anything.” He smiled at her agreeably.

Unable to face him, Brienne eyed the ripples that formed between them, and broke upon his skin. “I hurt you.” She whispered, her voice betraying the regret she felt when she spoke. “That night...at Winterfell...after the battle.” Her words were halting as she recalled images of his face and realized he had been heartbroken. “I hurt you...didn’t I?” She could no longer hold back her tears. Brienne tried to pull her hands from Tormund’s grasp, not feeling worthy to hold onto him any longer. He would not let her go.

He squeezed her fingers tighter, trying to reassure her. “Of course, my heart was broken when you chose...” He trailed off, unwilling to speak the other man’s name over his time with Brienne. He would instead show her why none of that mattered now. “I loved you.” He smiled, remembering every moment he had watched her hopefully. “Yes, I wanted you to choose me, but...” he paused. “It was your choice to make.” He affirmed. “More than anything, I wanted you to be happy. Even if that meant you were with someone else.” Staring intently at her, his vow attested to the strength of his love.

Brienne’s gaze found his adoring eyes, and held them for a long while. She was uncertain how to speak the next thought that troubled her. Tormund noticed the sadness sweep over her face again.

“What is it?” He prodded. “Please tell me.” He feared what she might say.

Taking a deep breath, Brienne began her confession slowly. “I...I gave something away that night.” She was mortified and could no longer bare his adoration. She did not feel she deserved it, but she forced herself to continue. “Something that should have been yours.” Bitter tears began to find their way down her cheeks.

“What?” He did not understand.

She reddened with embarrassment and shame. “My...My...” She breathed deeply again. “My maidenhead.” She looked away quickly.

“Your what?” He questioned confused. He had never heard that word before.

Confessing her shame, Brienne tried to explain. “Before that night...I was a...” she paused. She dreaded actually voicing it. “I had never...” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand so she would not have to continue.

He watched her for a moment, still baffled. Then in an instant, realization struck him. “Oh.” He smiled. In fact, he began to laugh. Brienne’s pained expression turned into her own confusion as he chuckled.

Tormund pulled Brienne even closer to him. “Southerners.” He mumbled, shaking his head in amusement. “Brienne.” He began. “You’d be hard pressed to find a Free Folk woman who’s still a...maiden... on her wedding day.” He smiled. “And usually it wasn’t given to the bloke she’s marrying.” He noticed Brienne seemed a little shocked at that idea. “We don’t worry about that.” He kissed her temple. “I don’t care who got to you first.” He said, pulling back to look her straight in the eyes. “As long as I’m the last.” It was his eyes now that pleaded with her. “I would have waited a thousand lifetimes for you.” He raised her hands to his lips and kissed them softly.

Brienne raise her eyes hopefully to him. “Does that mean...” She faltered. “You still...?”

“Love you?” He finished for her. His face grew serious and his eyes penetrated deep into her very core. He gently took her face in his hands as they floated, and smiled tenderly. “My beauty. I love you more than ever.” He told her.

Brienne’s face seemed to light the entire cave. Her smile glowed like the brightest ray of sunlight Tormund had ever seen. She leaned into him and could no longer bare even the small distance between them. Her arms slipped comfortably around his neck. She wanted to cry, but this time it was tears of joy that choked her throat. “I love you.” Brienne told Tormund happily. “Oh Gods, I love you!” She declared to him, breathlessly. Brienne had never said that to a man before. Not even Jaime. However, in that moment, alone with Tormund needing the feel of him on her flesh, and wishing to be nowhere else in the entire world, Brienne wanted to shout her emotions from the highest mountain top. She, Brienne of Tarth, daughter of the Evenstar and heir to Evenfall, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms, had fallen desperately in love with Tormund Giantsbane. She clung to him as if he were her only claim on life itself, starring longingly into his adoring eyes, and saw her future. 

Finally, their lips met. Fingers caressed the curves of their muscles, straining to be even nearer. Mouthes searched each other, hungry and yearning. Pulses quickened as their bodies felt what their hearts had just confessed. Aching for him, Brienne brought her legs up around Tormund as he backed her against a smooth slick outcropping of rock at the edge of the pool. He braced himself with his palms against the boulder, and pinned her against the slab with the pressure of his thick muscular body. She leaned her head back in ecstasy as his hungry mouth explored her throat and then moved down to enjoy her breasts. His body already rocking against her, she felt him hard on the sensitive nerves between her legs. She clutched at his shoulders and neck, and then slid her trembling hands into his hair.

Barely able to fill her lungs Brienne gasped into his ear. “ I need you,” she begged.

Eagerly ready to answer her plea he slid himself inside her slowly but firmly, exhaling sharply from the pleasure. Brienne answered him with a low velvety moan. She raised her hips to him even more and tightened her legs around him, driving him deeper into her. Tormund’s hands descended down her sides, clasped her hips, and he began to thrust himself into her. He groaned as his body filled every inch of her.

Brienne’s cries of passion grew louder as each forceful move of him crashed into her. Her nails dug into his back, causing him such sweet pain. The warm water splashed around them, drenching them and amplifying their actions. He felt her breasts heaving against his chest. Her breath washed over him as she gasped at his neck. Gone from his kiss for too long, she lifted her face to his, searching for his lips. She found them equally longing and worked her tongue against his. She tasted so sweet that he lapped her up like a starving man.

Her grasp tightened on his skin, and a long luxurious wail rose from her throat as she reached her peek. It drove him to the edge of his passions and he exploded into her, groaning with a sultry relief. Their lungs screaming for oxygen, they fell back against the outcropping, and shared a delicious kiss.  
———————————————

Brienne and Tormund awoke the morning after, warm and happy in each other’s arms. The thermal cavern had been an oasis in the frozen North. After making love in the hot spring, they had sprawled on the rocky floor of the cave, savoring the feeling of being together. Brienne had lain awake long after Tormund had fallen asleep listening to the sounds of her lover in his slumber, and feeling dreamily fulfilled. Her life had taken an unexpected turn, but not an unwelcome one.

She laid with her head on his chest for most of the night, reveling in the rise and fall of his breathing. Her ear pressed against his skin, she could hear the rush of air into his lungs and then another as he exhaled long and slow. His heartbeat was the most beautiful music she had ever heard. For the first time in weeks, she thought of him, of Jaime Lannister. She had never told Jaime that she loved him. Had she loved him? Did she even have the chance? She remembered how she felt with him. They had been close yes. More than friends really. The respect and admiration they felt for one another was genuine, for sure. There had been passion when they had succumbed to their lust. But love? Had there been love? She was no longer certain.

It had never been like this. Jaime’s kiss was frantic and frenzied. As if he was trying to devour her while he could. Tormund’s kiss on her mouth was passionate and ardent, as if removing his lips from was a physically pain he could not bear. Jaime’s touch was possessive. It seemed his fingers were trying to cling to her like he knew it would not last. Tormund’s embrace was soft, gentle. He made her feel like a rare treasure that he did not feel worthy to hold. Tormund did not rush. He did not need to. There had always been someone else between Jaime and her. The one, who in the end, had ultimately triumphed. For the first time she was glad Jaime had left her. Tormund was her future, one that Brienne wanted desperately. She dreamed of all it could hold as she had finally drifted off to sleep.

Brienne awoke with the morning light streaming into the cave, and Tormund kissing her temple. She stirred slowly, and tightened her grip across him. He breathed in her scent deeply and wrapped his arms firmly around her.

“Let’s stay here forever.” He coaxed.

Brienne entwined her fingers in his and held his hand. She nestled closer into the crook of his shoulder. “I do like the sound of that.” She grinned dreamily enjoying the picture he painted.

They laid there for quite some time, wishing they truly could remain in the hidden grotto, but knowing that too much depended on the success of their work. Brienne squirmed in Tormund’s arms as her stomach growled. So intent had they been on each other the previous evening, that they had not eaten dinner. “Are you hungry?” He laughed.

“Yes.” She smiled. “Starved!”

Sitting up and holding her for a few moments more, he kissed her bare shoulders. She leaned against him and wrapped her arm backward around his neck. “Let me make you something?” He asked. They had brought supplies from Castle Black which the extreme cold was keeping nicely frozen in their saddle bags.

“Hmm.” She nodded. “I would love that.” She liked the idea of letting him take care of her for a while.

“I love you.” He said, kissing her neck.

She turned and brought her hand to his face, resting it on his cheek and staring into his eyes. “And I love you.” She declared. “So very much.”

His answer was another long slow kiss. They parted reluctantly and rose to their feet. Brienne dressed quickly in only her plain garments, leaving her armor on the ground where Tormund had placed it the night before. She pulled on her boots and swung her thick cloak around her shoulders. “I need to go outside for a few minutes,” she told him bashfully. She needed to relieve herself, but her modesty prevented her from telling him exactly the reason she needed some privacy. “I...I need to...” she trailed off.

“Piss?” Tormund asked bluntly.

Brienne laughed and rolled her eyes. “Yes.” She giggled. “If you must know.”

Tormund let out a shout of merriment at her adorable embarrassment. He took her by the arm and walked her to the entrance of the cave. “Be careful, and don’t go too far. It can get dangerous up here if you don’t know your way around.”

Brienne gave him a reassuring look of adoration. “ I promise.” She agreed. “I won’t be long.”

Once outside in the frigid air, Brienne noticed that the cave entrance created a small wooded mound in the landscape. She began to walk around the base of the formation, not wanting to be too close to the cavern when she picked a spot. As she rounded what she guessed was the opposite side from where they had entered, she began to loosen her clothing. She had not managed to completely undo the closures on her britches when she heard the crunching of snow and the loud cracking of branches behind her.

Brienne turned quickly and then froze at the site that met her terrified eyes. The largest, sturdiest bear she had ever seen was stalking her path. It’s fur was as white as the snow. Even on all fours, it stood taller than she did. It paws were as big around as wash tubs. Brienne grabbed for her sword. It was not at her side. Thinking she would only be a few moments, she had left it in the cave. She cursed herself for her carelessness as she stood motionless, afraid to breath. The bear sniffed and pawed at the ground along which she had walked, and hastened its gate as it moved closer to her. Finally, the ferocious beast seemed to realize she was directly in front it. It looked up, sniffed the air and stared at her, fury and hunger in it’s black eyes. Brienne pressed herself as close to the rocks behind her as she could. She remembered Tormund in the cave, waiting for her return.

‘Stay in the cave.’ Brienne thought to him, knowing he would eventually come looking for her. ‘Don’t come out here.' She tried to will him as the bear inched closer to her.

In her absence Tormund had busied himself preparing a feast for his love to break her fast. He had skewered two legs of mutton and set them to roast over the fire. He laid out a loaf of bread and some wine. As he stepped back to survey the romantic meal for two, he realized that Brienne had been gone too long. Fear gripped him and a thousand terrible things ran through his mind. It was then that he heard the sound that chilled the blood in his veins. It was the roar of a very angry bear. He grabbed his sword, not even bothering to cloak himself against the cold. Panicked, he ran out of the cave to search for Brienne.

Brienne’s terror grew as the bear’s ferocious roar seemed to cut through her. Finding a loose rock under her hand, she frantically threw it at the animal, hoping it would scare the vicious predator away. Her actions only made it angrier. Her mind traveled back to another bear. Her fear in the bear pit at Harrenhal had not even been this intense. She remembered that as she had faced down that huge brown bear she had somehow known that she would survive the encounter. Then Jaime had appeared, and had saved her. Her greatest fear now, was of Tormund appearing along the path and that the bear would rip him to shreds. She prayed that if one of them was to feel the wrath of this creature, that it would be her. The bear stood only a few feet from her. It raised it gigantic paw ready to strike, it’s razor sharp claws glinting in the morning light.

From above her on top of the knoll, Brienne heard a fierce blood yell. She looked up to see Tormund hurling himself on top of the bear, his sword already held high. Her heart filled with dread as he landed atop of the surprised animal. “Tormund!” Brienne screamed as she watched him straddle the fierce creature. The bear began to twist and writhe, trying to rid itself of its unwanted rider. Tormund grabbed a mound of fur in order to keep from being thrown. Brienne pressed herself even tighter against the outcropping to avoid the thrashing bear. It slammed itself against the wall a few feet from her trying to knock Tormund from its back.

Brienne lost site of him, and she feared he had been crushed against the boulders that formed the back side of their cave. She fell to her knees in the snow, praying he was unharmed. When the bear reared up again she saw Tormund still hanging on, gripping tightly with his legs around the giant bear’s neck. This time, however, his sword was raised high above his head. His face filled with hate at the monster who had nearly killed Brienne, Tormund plunged his sword into the animals head. The bear let out a horrifying death scream, as Tormund’s weapon sank deep into its brain. Tormund twisted the blade with all his force to ensure the animal’s demise. The bear’s ghastly howl, turned into a choked whimper as the last of its life left it. The hulking carcass collapsed to a heap in the drifts.

Brienne clung to the boulders, fighting to find breath as Tormund climbed down from the behemoth he had just slain to save her. He ran to her and fell to his knees, clutching her to him. Brienne closed her eyes in relief and held tightly to him still shaking with fear. He stroked her hair, unwilling to let her go. He squeezed his own eyelids shut to chase away the image of what might have happened. When finally they could move again, he brought his hands up to hold her face. She grabbed onto his forearms, as if clinging to a lifeline.

“I should never have let you come out here alone.” He said, knowing all too well the dangers of the North with which she was unfamiliar.

“I wasn’t thinking.” Brienne said regretfully. “I didn’t bring my sword.” Her mind flashed to the horrible image of him attacking the gigantic snow bear. “You could have been killed.” She whispered, still terrified.

“No.” He scoffed. “It’ll take more than a little bear to kill me.” He joked. “But I’m going to have to be much more careful with you.” He smiled at her and she realized his words were a vow. She had been returned to him unharmed and he was not going to take any chances of losing her again. He kissed her deeper and more passionately than he ever had before.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally reaching the Free Folk encampment, Brienne finds reasons to relish and to fear her time in the North with Tormund.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not an expert on Free Folk culture so I had to make some things up. Hope you like what I’ve done here.

They traveled for several days further into the North, Tormund keeping an ever watchful eye on Brienne. The temperature dropped with every mile they rode. She felt as though her body was becoming used to the constant cold, and she was certain she had never seen anywhere more beautiful. While she was now vigilant for the ever present dangers of the frozen landscape, Brienne also felt herself growing comfortable here. It was if something was welcoming her home. Brienne rode at Tormund’s side like she had always been there. It seemed like they had loved each other forever. She was eager to reach his village, to learn more of his ways, and to meet his family.

“Do you think your daughters will like me?” Brienne asked out of the blue as they stopped to rest. She did not want to tell him how nervous she had become at the thought of being introduced to his children.

Sensing her apprehension, Tormund removed his gloves and took Brienne’s hand. He slid her fingers from the skin mittens that protected them, and warmed them with his breath as he kissed them gently. Pressing her hand to his chest, he answered with a wide smile. “They will love you.” He said, leaning close to her, and kissing away her worries. Her relieved eyes as she smiled back, told him she believed and trusted him.

That same afternoon they followed a well worn path flanked on one side by a thick wilderness, and on the other by a vast frozen plain. It seemed to Brienne that Tormund’s pace quickened, and she felt he was excited with anticipation. She grinned at his eagerness and wondered if she acted the same way when she visited her father at Evenfall. A short distance down the road, it came into view. A bustling encampment of a hundred or more round huts made from animal skins, each with smoke rising from openings in the center of their roofs. They turned off the footpath and steered their horses toward the village.

Their arrival had apparently attracted attention, as people began to gather at the edge of the settlement to await them. There were cheers and waves as they entered the village. Brienne was used to being stared at, however as they made their way slowly through the crowd it seemed everyone’s gaze was transfixed on her. She assumed it was because she was an outsider. Brienne reminded herself that she would need her best diplomatic manners, especially since she was so unfamiliar with Free Folk culture.

They maneuvered through the crowd and deeper into the village. Their audience grew by the time they had reached the center of the circular settlement. At that point their progress was stopped as those who had gathered refused to make way for them any further. Brienne saw Tormund bristle and grow tense at her side. Suddenly a loud clamor arose from the crowd. Several men who stood watching them let loose an intense roar. They raised their weapons and waved them in the air. Tormund stood tall in his stirrups, and echoed the same sentiment even more fervently, shaking his sword above him.

Dismounting his horse agilely and self assuredly, Tormund stood close to Brienne as she did the same. He allowed almost no space between them, as if he were staking his claim. Unsure of whether she was considered friend or foe, Brienne was glad for the shield of his body and followed his every step. She was surprised at how reassuring she found it when his hand slid around her waist and guided her through the crowd. As they led their horses further toward the other side of the roughly trodden pathways, a few bystanders greeted Tormund happily. Some slapped him on the back and traded jokes. Some embraced him warmly. Others shook their heads and chuckled, amused at his usual bravado. After passing by a few rows of small huts, the crowd began to thin and give way for a clear route toward a modest structure on the outskirts of the camp. They had nearly reached the doorway of the skin covered round tent when they heard a high pitched squeal over their shoulders. Brienne turned to see two beaming young girls running toward them, each with shaggy manes of flaming red hair.

“Papa! Papa!” They shouted eagerly as they ran to Tormund and threw their arms around him.

Tormund bent down and scooped his daughters up in his arms, holding them both in a tight embrace and letting out a warm howl at seeing them. Brienne stood back cheerfully watching the loving reunion, her face glowing nearly as brightly as Tormund’s. He was husband to neither of their mothers, yet it was clear to see the close bond they all shared. Her heart melted at the bright endearing smile that he wore proudly. Everyday she was discovering something else to love about him.

Kissing both girls on the tops of their heads, and squeezing them again for good measure, Tormund set them once more on their feet and turned them to meet Brienne. He wrapped an arm around each girl’s shoulders and introduced them in turn. “This is my oldest, Munda.” He announced proudly. The girl was tall, near sixteen Brienne guessed, and had the sweetest smile she had ever seen.

“And this is...” Tormund began.

“Anya Giantsbane!” The vividly confident younger girl, who was close to fourteen announced, stepping forward and holding out a hand in her best practiced southern greeting.

Brienne took her hand and shook it joyfully. She realized that although they had not been products of marriage, the girls wore their father’s surname, a practice almost unheard of below the Wall. The more she learned about Free Folk culture, the more she liked it. “I’m very glad to meet you both.” Brienne said happily to them.

“Girls! This is...” Tormund again tried to get a word in, but his daughters’ excitement could not be contained.

“You’re Brienne of Tarth!” They both interrupted in unison and stared wide eyed at their new acquaintance. Brienne laughed and nodded. It seemed her arrival had been anticipated. She raised a quizzical brow at Tormund who simply winked at her and shrugged his shoulders. He was greatly enjoying this first meeting of his children and the woman he hoped to bring into their lives permanently.

At once a thrilled barrage of questions began. “Are you really a knight?” Anya asked.

“Were you really Lord Commander of the King’s Guard?” Munda questioned, her eyes wide. Brienne nodded, unable to find an opening to answer.

“Did you really kill more dead at Winterfell than anyone else?” Anya wanted to know. Brienne, trying to protest that report, rolled her eyes at Tormund who pretended not to see. Perhaps he had embellished her reputation somewhat.

Tormund did, however, redirect his daughters’ enthusiasm. He led Brienne to the doorway of the bungalow, and threw back a heavy skin that acted as a door. He gestured for her to enter. “After you.” He urged. Smiling warmly at him, she accepted his invitation and turned to enter. His arm still around Brienne’s waist, he pivoted slightly to guide her through the doorway. Just then Anya grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the side as the girls followed them.

“She’s gorgeous!” The wide eyed child whispered into his ear. Tormund winked back at her and grinned in agreement. He had seen the jealousy on the faces of the other Free Folk men as he led Brienne into the his village, as if he were escorting a living goddess. He could not help sitting taller in the saddle as he had lead her among his people. He knew that the evening to come would force him to pay for cockiness, but for now it felt so damned good.

Once inside Tormund reached around Brienne’s shoulders and unfastened her cloak. He removed the thick cape and hung it on a peg by the door. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” He laughed.

The one room hut was a bit sparse and free of unneeded things. Brienne appreciated that. Thick furs on the floor and walls ensured the warmth of the interior. A narrow rough sideboard stood along one side of the curved wall, upon which were stacked a few cooking tools. Another smaller table sat near the fire. It had been set with two plates, two cups, and utensils. An earthenware jug stood in the middle of arrangement and was filled with dried sprigs of pine, appropriate replacements for the flowers that graced tables in the South. A few chests were stacked around the walls, and garments and furs hung from several pegs that lined the interior structure. A fire had already been made over which a large boiling pot of something that smelled wonderful was cooking. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Brienne cast a bashful grin to the floor when she noticed that the bed which bordered the far side of the hut had been mounded with pillows and the fur that topped it, meticulously turned down.

“Who cleaned?” Tormund boomed, feigning annoyance.

“We wanted everything to be nice.” Munda explained embarrassed. Tormund was touched by his daughters’ helpfulness. “...For Brienne,” the excited girl continued, hero worship in her eyes as she admitted their actions had nothing to due with him.

“How thoughtful of you.” Brienne said sweetly. “I can’t imagine a nicer place to stay.” She smiled. The girls nearly wiggled with delight, happy that they had pleased Brienne.

Tormund milled around his own house wondering what his girls had done with the most of his possessions. He stopped at the heavy steaming pot on the fire, and removed the lid. He took a long whiff of the tempting mixture boiling inside. “Mmmm! Reindeer stew!” He proclaimed. My favorite!”

“We know.” Anya giggled. “That’s why we made it.” She said as her father took a large spoon from the pot and greedily tasted the hot broth. Apparently pleased, he replaced the lid. Noticing the table he asked, “Why only two plates? You’re both staying?” His question sounded more like a jovial command.

Brienne spoke up. “Oh yes. Please stay.” She begged. She had just met these two endearing joyful girls, and already she liked them immensely.

“Alright!” Anya quickly agreed, elated. Her sister grabbed her by the arm with a stern look on her face, and whispered something in her ear. She pointed to the bed as she conveyed her secret.

Anya exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. “They can do that later.” She protested, annoyed at her sister. “I want to spend some time with Brienne.” The younger girl groaned. Munda poked her in the side with her elbow, and gave another quick glare. “Oh...and Papa.” Anya added.

“Thanks, a lot.” Tormund tried to sound hurt.

“Fine.” Munda gave in, eager to learn more about Brienne herself.

“Wonderful!” Anya squealed and jumped into action taking two more sets of dishes from the sideboard and laying them on the table. Brienne tried not to laugh at how adorable the girls were. Instead she gave Tormund a lovingly amused grin. He answered her with a knowing smirk, overjoyed that she was already charmed by his daughters.

As the light outside faded to darkness they sat laughing and talking and enjoying the girls’ delicious creation. Munda and Anya amused Brienne with stories of their father’s legendary exploits. They then begged Brienne to tell them of Tarth. She painted rich pictures for them of her island home, recounting tales of swimming in the warm sapphire waves, and spending entire days among the wildflower carpeted meadows. They could almost see the tall lush waterfalls, and the towering cliffs of marble that glistened in the balmy sunshine. The girls wished they could hear the sounds of the surf to which Brienne had fallen asleep as a girl. Enchanted by the far away isle they had never seen, the girls made Tormund promise to take them there someday. He smiled wistfully at Brienne in agreement, as if picturing her among the landscape she described. She returned his gaze with a hopeful look of her own. She began to dream of introducing him, and his beautiful girls, to her father. ‘How proud the Evenstar would be.’ She thought to herself.

As the happy group finished their dinner, there came a loud call from outside. It was a shrill female tone. “Tormund!” The owner of the voice called.

Anya’s shoulders slumped, and she rolled her head in exaggerated dread. Brienne looked questioningly at her. “It’s my mother.” The girl explained.

Tormund stood up from the table, but before he could reach the doorway a short loud woman with nut brown hair burst through into the hut followed by a slightly taller, thinner woman with a dark blonde pony tail. “Is Anya here...?” The first woman began, halting when she saw the girl trying to shrink in her seat.

Tormund looked from his youngest child to his eldest. “You didn’t tell your mothers you were coming here?” He questioned the girls.

“The whole village saw you returning.” Anya shrugged. “We thought they’d know.” She stared at where her feet would be under the table.

“Anya!” He looked sternly at the girl. She lowered her eyes even further.

“Munda,” the taller woman spoke up. “I have been worried sick.” She glared at the older girl.

“Mama! I’m sixteen.” Munda rolled her eyes and whined.

“Exactly!” Her mother said, giving her a sharp look.

Brienne shifted in her chair and look embarrassed for the girls. She was becoming uncomfortable at the small family drama beginning to unfold around her. She sat quietly and tried to make her tall frame as inconspicuous as possible. Tormund seemed to sense her distress and inched his way toward her.

He looked across the room at the mothers of his girls. “I thought you knew they were here.”

Finally bringing their attention to Brienne, satisfied that their daughters were safe, the women visibly relaxed. “It’s not your fault.” Anya’s mother sighed, eyeing the girls. The two took a step forward and seemed to be waiting earnestly. Brienne stood and watched them solemnly, uncertain what their reaction would be toward her.

Tormund realized he needed to introduce the women in his life to each other. Stepping closer to Brienne and once again wrapping his reassuring arm around her, he admired her warmly. “Brienne,” he began. “This is Munda’s mother Daggma, and this is Anya’s mother, Hetty.” He gestured to the women in turn.

“I’m very pleased to meet you.” Brienne smiled cordially at them. “Your girl’s are absolutely lovely.” She complimented. “I have had the most wonderful time with them this evening.” She smiled.

“Thank you. I’m so sorry if Munda was imposing.” Daggma apologized.

“I’m sure you’re tired after such a long journey.” Hetty acknowledged. “I hope Anya wasn’t a bother.” She worried. They seemed nervous as if they feared they had offended Brienne.

Brienne’s guard softened. “Of course not.” She belied their concerns. “Its been a joy talking with them.” She saw the girls’ mothers relax. Brienne wondered why it was they who seemed to feel so awkward in her presence when she was the newcomer.

“We should all be leaving now, and ummm...giving you two some time alone.” Daggma suggested to both Tormund and Brienne.

Tormund quickly stepped away from Brienne and stopped the women as they tried to head for the door flap. “Actually. I’m glad you’re here. I need you to stay with Brienne for awhile.” Tormund requested. “There is some business I need to take care of.” He looked at both women as if they knew exactly of what he spoke. It appeared they did.

“Now?” Hetty challenged. “You’re going to do that now?” She stared at him in disbelief.

“I have to. They’ll be waiting and ready.” He declared emphatically. “Please. Will you stay?” Daggma and Hetty looked concerned but nodded in agreement.

Brienne was already worried when he spun around to face her. “There is something I need to do.” He held her hand as he spoke. “It won’t take long. Stay here. The girls and their mothers will keep you company.” He smiled, but his faced hid apprehension.

“What is it?” Brienne sensed something was not right. “Can I help?” She begged.

“No. You keep getting to know everyone.” He kissed her softly. “I need you to be here.” He affirmed. Brienne nodded. Whatever it was, it was obviously very important to him. She would honor his wishes, although she was becoming more apprehensive as she gauged the others’ reactions. She clenched his hands a while longer and he could feel her fear growing. He brought his hand to Brienne’s cheek and touched her forehead with his own. “I won’t be long.” He declared and then kissed her again.

Reluctantly Tormund broke his grasp on Brienne and walked toward the door. Munda and Anya cried out worriedly, “Papa!” they yelled as they ran to him.

Tormund held them close for a moment. He then pulled them from his waist and stared at them as if he might not see them again. Almost to assure himself, he whispered to them, “Everything will be alright. You take care of Brienne for me while I’m gone.” He bid them. The girls nodded, eager to accept their new responsibility. Then, grabbing his skin coat from a peg Tormund threw it around his shoulders as he strode out of the door without looking back.

Brienne stood, suddenly feeling very alone in a room full of people. Her desperation must have been apparent on her face, as Daggma and Hetty jumped quickly into action to take her mind from Tormund’s absence. They drew closer to Brienne and, taking her arms, turned her face from the door. “There’s no need to worry. It is just our way.” Hetty tried to lighten the weight that had settled throughout the hut. “Come and let us help you unpack.” She offered.

“Good idea.” Daggma agreed. “Girls run outside and fetch Brienne’s saddlebag from her horse.” She ordered. The girls quickly complied.

The girls and their mothers helped Brienne unpack her belongings, finding places for them in the storage chests and on the pegs around the room. Brienne was surprised by the kindness of the women. She had expected that perhaps they would not be so welcoming, or might be threatened by her presence in the life a man with whom they had so much history. It was quite the opposite, however. They seemed to be worried that she might find something objectionable of them. In reality there was nothing to dislike about either woman, and she was enjoying her time getting to know them.

“How about something to warm our bones.” Daggma suggested. Before Brienne or Hetty could answer, she was taking down a jug of wine from a shelf and pouring it into a small pan to heat over the fire. “The heat brings out the finer qualities of the drink.” She grinned.

Brienne and Hetty smiled nervously and sat down at the table across from each other. Munda and Anya jumped up and began clearing the dishes from the table to wash and dry. Within a few minutes Daggma joined the women with three large mugs of warm wine. Brienne took a sip and was delighted by the flavor. It was like nothing she had ever tasted.

“This is delicious.” Brienne said, taking another mouthful. “There can’t be grapes up here. What is it made of?” She smiled.

“Winter berries.” Hetty told her. “They grow deep in the snowy woods. Warming the brew will keep you warm throughout the long winter nights.” She took a long sip from her cup.

Daggma peered over to the pillow-laden bed, and grinned. “Oh, I don’t think Brienne will have any problem with that.” The three ladies dissolved in laughter. The girls smirked at each other and pretended not to hear.

—————  
Across the camp, Tormund swept aside the thick fur panels and strode into the gathering tent like a man on a mission. The tent was filled with men and a few women from the village. Most were drinking and several were already very drunk. There was not one he did not know, and there were not many he did not consider friends. Tormund stared at all of them, a fierce and threatening look on his face. A dozen men, equally as dangerous and muscular stood from their seats and approached him. Tormund unbelted his coat and laid it on a nearby bench, never turning his back on the others. He slowly rolled up his sleeves, and stared intensely at those who faced him.

“Well.” Tormund snorted. “Let’s get this over with.” He demanded. “I’ve got a beautiful woman to bed tonight.” He grinned haughtily.

A large black haired man began rolling up his own sleeves and sneered at him. “We’ll see about that!” The man threatened as he neared Tormund, pulling back his clenched fist.  
——————  
Brienne, Hetty, and Daggma sat talking as the girls tidied their father’s home from dinner. Brienne was glad they were there. Having others to talk to was almost helping to take her mind from the questions of where Tormund had gone so urgently, almost. She could not get the serious look on his face out her mind. Even when they had fought the dead at Winterfell, she had not seen him look so dire. The pleasant conversation she was enjoying this evening was comforting her mind, but it could not fill the uneasy pit in her stomach.

Brienne’s attentions were brought back from her wondering by the sound of Dagmma’s tone raising an octave. Her new acquaintance was obviously trying to redirect her thoughts, for which she was grateful. She did wonder, however, why there was a need to keep her occupied. Brienne looked sheepishly at her companions. She had been so lost in her imagination that she had not heard the question they had posed to her. Fortunately Anya chose that moment to interrupt all of them with a question of her own.

“Do you love my father?” She asked, her bright blue eyes completely innocent to the intensely personal nature of her inquiry.

“Anya!” Hetty tried to correct her daughter.

Brienne did not mind. “That’s quite alright.” She smiled, and turned an understanding gaze to the girl. “Yes I do. Very much.” She answered. Anya seemed satisfied and returned her focus to drying the dishes and pans.

Brienne turned back to Daggma and a Hetty. “I’m actually a bit surprised you both have been so kind to me.” She admitted. “I thought that with the past you both have with Tormund, that you might be...” she stumbled over her words, searching for the right one. “That you might be...upset about our relationship.” She searched their faces, hoping she had not insulted them.

The two Free Folk women laughed. “Oh goodness, not at all.” Hetty admitted.

“It was never like that.” Daggma shook her head, and waved away the thought.

“Oh.” Brienne said confused. “I assumed since you’d had children together that you must have...been,” Flustered, she could not complete her thought. Daggma finished for her.

“In love with him?” Daggma eyes widened with amused shock. “Oh, no. No. No.” Her laughter intensified. Brienne reddened at her mistake.

“Sorry.” Daggma said, wishing she had not reacted with such fervor. “We were both young and stupid.”

“And we were young and drunk.” Hetty chuckled.

Brienne looked apprehensively at Munda and Anya, who were still within earshot of their mothers’ comments. “Oh it’s alright.” Daggma smiled. “They know.”

Hetty nodded. “The girls understand. It’s always been this way for us. I have a husband and two other children.”

“My husband and I have four in addition to Munda.” Daggma added.

“Oh. I see.” Brienne answered quietly, wondering what they had found about Tormund that they could have his children, but did not want to be married to him.

Hetty and Daggma sensed Brienne’s sudden uncertainty. “Oh.” Daggma interjected. “Don’t get us wrong. He had as much interest in marriage to either of us as we had of him.” She sipped her wine swiftly, and then turned serious to assuage any fears Brienne might have. She looked earnestly at Brienne. “He’s a good man, and an excellent father. Better than many here who are married to their children’s mothers.” Daggma lauded. “He loves his daughters fiercely, and he’s never once let them down.”

She reached across the table and rested her hand atop Brienne’s. “Another thing is for certain. He loves you.” She asserted. “You are all he has spoken of since he returned from Winterfell with Jon Snow.” Brienne blushed as she felt her heart swell at the thought of the love she and Tormund shared. Daggma continued. “He’s really a wonderful person, and he will make the right woman a perfect husband.” She winked at Brienne, who reddened even brighter.

“Well, it certainly seems as though everyone was happy to see him return this afternoon with the greeting they gave him.” Brienne recalled the shouting and the raised swords from the other Free Folk as Tormund rode into the camp.

“Oh.” Munda interrupted from near the fire. “That wasn’t a greeting.”

“Munda!” Her mother snapped, apparently not wanting to bring up the topic to Brienne.

Brienne stared at her confused. “What was it?” She turned back to Hetty and Daggma.

The women looked at each other, neither wanting divulge the truth. It was Daggma who found the courage. “It was a challenge.”

“A challenge for what?” Brienne demanded.

Hetty faced Brienne but could not look at her. She gulped, not wanting to tell her. However, she knew the truth could not be withheld any longer. She took a deep breath. “For you.” She said.

“For me?” Brienne could hardly breath, surely she had heard them wrong.

“It’s how these things are done here.” Daggma tried to explain. “These men see something they want, they’ll try to take it. They have to be beaten down, or they’ll never stop trying.”

“You are the most breathtaking woman to enter this village in years.” Hetty told her. “There’s not a man here who wouldn’t give their right arm to be with you.” She said.

Brienne winced at the thought of the man who had given just that, but she refused to dwell on Jaime. She pushed him back to the place far away where she kept his memory. There was something much more important with which to deal now. “Is that where Tormund went?” Brienne asked, her blood beginning to boil.

The other women nodded quietly as the girls finished their work and joined them at the table. “Don’t worry Brienne.” Anya said supportively. “Papa’s going to win. Nobody ever beats him.” She beamed proudly.

“Anya’s right.” Munda agreed. “He’ll beat them all.” She tried to be encouraging, but did not realize how her words sounded to Brienne.

“How many?” Brienne questioned urgently.

Hetty swallowed. “As many as want to challenge him.” She acknowledged.

Brienne could sit no longer. “I have to go to him.” She swore, standing and heading for her sword.

“That’s the worst thing you could do.” Daggma tried to stop her. “You’ll be a distraction to him.” She maneuvered herself between Brienne and the doorway.

Brienne fought tears, and stared at her. Daggma took her hands and looked over her shoulder. Brienne followed her eyes, to where Munda and Anya sat. She saw the girl’s brave faces were beginning to cloud with worry. She realized her reaction was making the waiting worse for them. Brienne took a deep breath and looked back at Daggma. She nodded her head in understanding.

Daggma leaned closer to her and whispered. “He loves you too much to lose.” She reassured her.

Brienne nodded once more. She replaced her sword where it had leaned against the wall and sat back down. Daggma returned to her seat beside Brienne, and held her hand under the table. “Girls.” Brienne spoke, trying to put on a brave face. “I didn’t tell you how your father killed a snow bear to save me.” She thought hearing the tale recounted would reassure them.

The girls listened with wide eyes as Brienne told the tale of Tormund springing from the rise above her and plunging his sword into the huge bear’s skull to protect her. She could see their certainty that he would return to them growing with each word. Finally, contented in their belief in their father’s strength, it was Anya who yawned first.

“Go lay down on the bed, and try to sleep for awhile.” Daggma ordered them. “You’ve both had enough excitement for one day.” Munda and Anya tried to protest, but were silenced by Daggma’s stern look. “Now!” She ordered.

Begrudgingly the girls complied, dragging themselves from their chairs with quick smiles at Brienne they shuffled to the bed, and collapsed into the pillows. Their deep rhythmic breathing signaled that they were asleep almost immediately. In contrast, Brienne’s could barely control the heaving of her chest as her heart raced. She sat with Daggma and Hetty for quite a while longer trying to make pleasant conversation. Her fear was growing with each second Tormund did not return.  
————-  
Tormund stumbled through the snow, bruised and bloodied. His body ached with every step, yet his spirits had never been higher. They had come at him with everything they had, all dozen or so of them. They had pummeled him and beaten him, and he had overpowered them all. Not a single man could get the better of him. He whipped all of them. Tormund laughed to himself as he trudged home. He had won the right to claim Brienne in the customs of his people, and no one would ever dare challenge him again. Muscles on fire, wounds burning, his mind was filled with thoughts of Brienne. All he wanted was to be with her tonight. He wanted to bury himself deep inside the woman he loved, and make her scream his name. Approaching the doorway of his hut, he heard the sounds of the women talking. They seemed deep in conversation, and his heart melted at the sound of Brienne’s voice. Her tone was the sweetest thing that had ever reached his ears. He knew he could never repay Daggma and Hetty for keeping her occupied. He stood peering into his little tent through a space in the fur flaps that blanketed the doorway, and listened.  
—————  
“We have a confession to make.” Hetty looked at Brienne guiltily. “We didn’t just come here to collect Munda and Anya.” Daggma looked equally troubled. Brienne stared at them quizzically.

“We wanted to see if we needed to worry about our girls.” Daggma confessed.

Brienne looked a bit shocked. “I would never hurt them.” She declared.

“Oh, no. Not that.” Hetty smiled. “It’s just we thought...” she paused. “Well, you’ve seen how close they are with their father.” She looked embarrassed. “We just wanted to make sure that...” She searched for her words.

“There would still be a place for them in his life.” Brienne looked at her with understanding. She reached over and took the women’s hands.

“My own mother died when I was very small.” Brienne admitted, her sad eyes looking down. “I have no memory of her.” She continued. “My older brother drowned in the sea when he was only eight. Both my little sisters died in their cradles. It was just my father and me for a long while.” Her eyes grew more sad as her memories grew more painful. “Eventually, his need for companionship outweighed even his concern for me. He brought a new woman to our House almost every year. I hated all of them.” She scowled. After a moment of being too overcome to speak Brienne looked up at them earnestly. “I know better than most the importance of a young girl’s relationship with her father. I would never, ever, come between them.” She swore.

Hetty and Daggma looked apologetic. “We realize that now.” Daggma conceded.  
————  
Outside Tormund listened to Brienne’s memory, and her vow. His heart broke for Brienne as she described the pain of losing those she loved. Hetty and Daggma did not know of the other miseries she had endured in her lifetime. However, he did, and he could hear the agony in her voice. He swore that with him she would know happiness, acceptance, and love. He adored her. He had just fought for her, and won. He was certain he was the luckiest man alive. Unable to be parted from Brienne for a moment longer, Tormund burst through the skins that covered the hut entrance.

“Why is everyone so glum!” He boomed, raising his arms in a victory stance. “You’d think somebody died!” He laughed.  
——————-  
Brienne whirled in her chair to face him unsure of whether to rage at him, or cry tears of joy.

“So you won!” Hetty announced.

“How do you know?” Brienne questioned, never taking her eyes from Tormund.

“He’s still standing.” Daggma confirmed.

“You should see the other sons of goats!” Tormund smirked.

With that, Brienne jumped from her chair and rushed to him. He had not been in a simple fight. She knew battle wounds when she saw them and his marred face shocked her. There were deep cuts on his cheekbone and at his hairline. Dried blood had left trails down his jaw and into his beard. His eye was blackened, and his lower lip busted. Understanding that there was undoubtedly more serious damage that could not be seen beneath his furs, Brienne refrained from throwing her arms around him and pressing herself to him, even though it was all she wanted. Instead, she grabbed onto the sleeves of his coat and held him, her face resting against his. He wrapped her in his arms and could feel her heart racing with both worry and relief. Daggma and Hetty understood the couple’s need for a private moment, and lowered their eyes after giving each other knowing smiles.

After a long while Brienne spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?” She demanded, hurt and angry.

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Tormund told her, tracing her cheek with his fingers. Through her concern, Brienne stared at him is disbelief.

Hetty and Daggma sensed the tension and nudged each other. It was time they should be leaving. Hetty quickly walked to the bed and gently shook both girls to wake them. Munda roused drowsily, and Hetty signaled for her to get up. The older girl took over shaking her little sister awake, a bit more roughly.

“What?” Anya grumped, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“Come on, its later.” Munda said gesturing toward Brienne and their father.

“Oh.” Anya nodded with understanding, pulling on her fur boots.

The girls rushed to their father and threw their arms around him. They hugged him tightly. Brienne saw Tormund wince in pain as the pressure of the embrace aggravated hidden wounds. He held his daughters heads for a moment, giving no sign of the pain he felt.

“Thank you for watching over Brienne for me.” He smiled at them.

The girls beamed, and moved their hugs to Brienne. “I enjoyed this evening with you both so much.” She smiled bravely, hiding her concern for their father.

“Alright girls.” Hetty announced as Daggma gathered their furs, and began wrapping them around their shoulders. “Time to go. Your Papa and Brienne would like some time alone.” She told them. The girls giggled, and smiled at each other. Their mothers rolled their eyes and pushed them toward the doorway.

Tormund took a moment to stop his girls’ mothers. “Thank you.” He said solemnly. The look on his face showing his appreciation for their protection of Brienne.

Hetty nodded as she passed him. “She’s quite an amazing woman.” She informed him as if he didn’t already know.

Daggma looked at him sternly and pointed her finger in his face. “Don’t mess this up.” She whispered.

The women turned to Brienne and hugged her sweetly. “He means well.” Daggma conceded. Brienne could not stifle her chuckle.

“Don’t be too hard on him.” Hetty smiled at her. Brienne nodded and thanked them as they left.  
————————-  
Brienne was too angry to speak, yet she was relieved that Tormund was alive. She stared at him unsure whether she should kiss him passionately or add to his injuries. He blinked at her sheepishly, sensing her anger. After collecting her emotions, she decided not to confront him, yet. Her worry was far more powerful than her rage at the moment. She walked past him without speaking, and moved a large wash tub from its resting place against the wall, setting it near the fire. She took two hefty pails from the floor and walked outside to fill them with snow, stopping just long enough to settle her cloak on her shoulders. Again, she all but ignored Tormund as she passed. He stood waiting, wishing she would scream at him. This silent treatment was more than he could stand.

When Brienne returned, she replaced her cloak on the wall, and set the buckets in the fire to melt and warm. Then, taking a deep breath, she turned to Tormund. “Take off your clothes.” She ordered.

He flashed her a wide smile. “Ah.” He grinned. “Now, that’s more like it.”

Brienne threw a frustrated look in his direction that told him she was not ready to forgive him. He did as he was told and began removing his garments, doing his best to hide the pain that each move was causing. Her mouth set defiantly, Brienne returned to his side and began helping him get undressed. Her stomach grew sick when she saw the remnants of his earlier combat. Long red streaks stained his left side. Dark purple bruises mottled his gut where he had been punched, and were nearly identical to the ones on his lower back where his kidneys had taken a pummeling. A deep blue bruise spread across the right side of his ribs, and Brienne was sure that at least a few were broken. She ran her fingers gently over his side, willing his injuries to heal. She laid her head against his shoulder, her own body feeling his pain, and released the air from her lungs long and slow. When Tormund turned to face Brienne, he found her eyes filled with tears. He moved to embrace her, but she pulled from his grasp.

Leaving Tormund where he stood, Brienne went to grab two rags from the sideboard and walked toward the fire. Shielding her hands with the rags, she removed the now steaming buckets of water and began to fill the washtub. When the pails were empty, she returned to him and helped him remove his boots and britches. “Get in.” She ordered plainly, trying not to look at him for fear her own body would give her away.

He complied with her command, and slowly stepped over the side of the tub. The hot water warmed his bones as he slid downward into the bath. The heat felt good on his wounds. He felt his body relax as he watched Brienne pick up one of the rags and begin searching for something.

“Where’s the soap?” She asked dryly. He pointed to the sideboard.

Brienne found a cake of hard soap and returned to Tormund in the tub. She removed her armor plate in order to move more freely. Kneeling down beside him, she soaked the rag and the soap in the water. Working up a rich lather, she ran the wash rag slowly over his back and arms, still unable to face him. He drank in the lavish feel of her washing him. Tormund shuddered as her breath on his shoulders chilled his skin. It felt wonderful. Still kneeling behind him Brienne brought the cloth across his collarbone and glided it down over his chest. She was forced to stretch to reach his front, and through her tunic her breasts brushed his back. The closeness of her drew a low pleasured moan from his throat. He laid his head back against hers and she nestled softly against him. Overcome by the thought that she might have lost him this night, Brienne could no longer hold back her sobbing, and released her tears against his neck.

He clutched her arm which still hung over his shoulder, and drew her around to face him. Brienne tried not to look at him, but he lifted her face gently to him. The pain in her eyes broke his heart, and brought tears to his own. Brienne lowered her face to his and reveled in his touch, giving thanks that he was alive. Her tears fell harder at the thought of what the night would have brought had he lost the challenge. He held her tightly, understanding the reason for her fear.

“Why did you not tell me where you going?” Brienne whispered. “Why did you bring me here if it was so dangerous?” She questioned. “Why did you you take the chance of...” She sobbed. “They could have killed you.”

Tormund took Brienne’s hand and held it close to him. “Please, please believe me.” He begged. “I would never put you in danger. I would have never brought you here if I wasn’t sure I would win.” He said. “I’ve beaten nearly every other man in this village, daily, since I was a boy.” He told her. “I was sure I would beat them now. I was fighting for you.” He looked so deeply into her eyes she wanted to look away, unable to maintain her anger any longer. “I would fight the whole damn world for you.” Tormund took Brienne’s face firmly in his hands. “And I would win.” He swore confidently. “I would win!” His voice choked as his tears burrowed tracks through the blood dried on his cheeks.

Brienne rung out the soapy rag and gently washed the blood from Tormund’s face. She was the one who now held his face in her hands. “I know you would.” She told him, nodding and swallowing her tears. “I know.” It was the thing that frightened her most. She brought her lips to his and kissed him softly. He met her eagerly, running his wet hands through her hair. The events of the day had given both of them an overwhelming need for each other, and their bodies reacted as their tongues played upon the other’s lips. Brienne dipped her hand into the water and ran it along Tormund’s abdomen. Searching further she found him hard and ready for her.

“Perfect.” She grinned seductively. Kissing him again, she pulled her lips away, leaving him aching for more. “Get your ass out the water.” She commanded sternly.

“Yes, Ma’am!” Tormund answered excitedly. He stood quickly revealing himself fully to her. The site brought a sweet flow of wetness between her legs.

“March!” She pointed to the bed.

“Can’t I even dry myself!” He asked, pretending to be shocked but loving every moment of her game.

“No!” She reiterated her gesture with a hard look.

He slumped as if defeated, and did as he was told. As he passed her, she brought a hand around sharply to slap his bare backside. He howled with delight.

Stopping beside the bed he looked back at her, eager for more orders. “Get in!” Brienne commanded him. “And sit up.”

He hurried to comply, finding so much enjoyment in her assertiveness that he felt himself growing harder as she spoke. He sat in the bed and leaned back against a post that supported the exterior wall of the hut. He noticed Brienne had brought with her the rags she had used earlier. She slowly stripped off her garments, teasing him by making him wait and exaggerating her movements. Finally, she got into bed with him and crawled to where he sat. Her mouth hungry for his, she tasted his lips and drove her tongue further to part them. He met her with his own probing jaws. Brienne moaned with anticipation, and then sat back abruptly. She took his right arm, which was closest to her and pinned it back against a cross beam that abutted the vertical support post against which he reclined. Using one of the rags, she tied his hand firmly to the beam. Leaning over him, and allowing him to enjoy the tenderness of her breasts as they hung in his face, she grabbed his other wrist, stretching his arm, and tied his left hand to the beam.

“What are you doing to me, Woman?” Tormund groaned happily.

Brienne straddled his upper thighs, and brought her mouth close to his. “Staking my claim!” She declared triumphantly as she probed his mouth again. His ecstatic groaning intensifying.

Moving her hips upward, careful not to put pressure on his wounds, Brienne rubbed herself along his hardness. Tormund threw his head back and moaned at the feel of her. She grabbed his hair and pulled his head back down to meet her lips. Never taking her mouth from his, she moved her own hand down to finger the sensitive nerves between her legs. Her breath quickened and she moaned as her body savored what she was doing to herself. She looked lustfully at him and found that he was taking the utmost pleasure in it as well. She reached further between her legs and brought her fingers around him. She slowly stroked the hardness of his shaft, making his chest heave with breathlessness at the pleasure she was bringing him. Just when she thought he was close to reaching his peek, she let go of him, much to his dismay. Returning her fingers back to her own body, she laid her mouth against his ear and worked herself quicker. Her gasps and groans brought shutters to his body which matched hers as she reached her climax. Unable to hold back any longer, her sweet flow cascaded over him, as he tasted her neck and moaned his approval.

“Gods, Brienne!” He yelled. “They didn’t kill me tonight, but you just might!” He worked fiendishly at the restraints with which she had bound his hands. He needed to get his arms around her.

She sat up, and straightened a bit, bringing her breasts up to his face. He greedily worked his mouth over them, as her breathing grew long and lustful enjoying his lips on her. Pulling back, she stared at him, her eyes heavy with desire. She was ready. Lowering herself onto him, she slid her soft warm wetness down around his tall hard cock. They both breathed in sharply, and found each other lips once more. Brienne began to move up and down on him. She was unaware that he had already freed one of his hands, and was close to gaining the other. He felt her velvety walls pulsing against his hardness as she took control and worked herself up and down on him. He was loving her movements so much it was almost a shame when he finally loosed the bind around his left hand, grabbed her shoulders, and flipped her back onto the bed. She shrieked in surprise, her eyes wide. Then she smiled passionately at him, and opened her legs wider. Never removing himself from her, he kneeled over her long heavenly body. Bending down he kneaded her luscious breasts and drove his tongue into her waiting mouth. He thrust himself hard inside her, making her wail with delight. She gave him a lusty looked and pleaded, “More!” She begged.

Again and again he forced himself inside her, and then backed out, each time thrusting further into her. “Harder!” Brienne yelled, unaware of how loud she was howling, and that her voice could be heard outside the tent. Tormund knew that half the camp was hearing her reach her passion, and he could not have been more pleased. There was nothing he could do but grant her wish and drive himself harder and deeper into her. Her back arched as she wrapped her legs around him. Her moans and wails turning into pleasured screams each time his cock went deeper. He answered her calls with a passioned chorus of his own. His injuries ached from the added strain he placed upon them. He ignored the pain in his body which was eclipse by the pleasure of being buried deep inside his own goddess.

She felt her peek approaching. He continued to advance. Her breathing was so quick and shallow that she felt dizzy. He knew he could not contain himself much longer. Finally, with one last advance, she lost control. “Tormund!” Brienne screamed in her climax as he let go his own peek inside her, groaning and spasming in pure ecstasy!  
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The days that followed were unlike any Brienne and Tormund had ever known. So comfortable with each other were they that it was as if they been together their entire lives. His people welcomed her warmly, and had instantly made her a part of their society. He felt like a king with her on his arm, basking in the head turns and awed stares he received as they strolled through the village. She noticed many men with bruised and battered faces following the night of the challenge. They could hardly look at her. Her anger turned to amusement and Brienne held Tormund closer each time they passed someone who had been a challenger for her favor. His daughters loved her, and she was equally as attached to them. Brienne had set aside her armor and donned the furs and skins of the Free Folk. Tormund was uncertain which he found more appealing.

Brienne stood beside Tormund in his villages council as he petitioned for their pledge of support and unity to House Stark. She was honored when the elders asked for her input in making their decision. It felt that she was already considered one of their own. Tormund beamed with pride. Brienne was pleasantly surprised to find his appeal was met with more eagerness than she thought it would. It took little time for the Free Folk to proclaim loyalty to the Stark name.

Life in the frozen North, so far from the battlegrounds she knew and the warm shores of her youth, was their paradise. In the short time they were together, Brienne and Tormund began to build a life together. She felt like she truly was home, and never wanted to leave. In their beautiful frozen bubble, it was almost easy to believe that Westeros was a distant legend, almost.  
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The outlander lay motionless on the bed in a modest clay dwelling that had been his home for over a year. Those who had been entrusted with his care called him The Specter, in whispers behind his back. For it was said that he had died in Westeros, and his broken body spirited across The Jade Sea by a protector, to be resurrected as a shadow in the eastern city of Asabahd. It was a wonder to them that he had even survived the ocean voyage, more evidence of his mythical origin. They believed him a fierce warrior in his day. He bore the remnants of many battles, sacrificing a part of himself for the victories in which they imagined he had triumphed. He had come to them barely clinging to life, his bones crushed. They had kept him alive and begun to heal him. It had not been an easy journey to where he was now, only able to sit up and take light meals. He spent his days brooding, and his nights in pain as he tried to find slumber. The man spoke never a word, save for the name he whispered mournfully in his sleep...”Brienne.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Essosi forces attack the North at Eastwatch, Brienne and Tormund face a heart wrenching threat to their life together.

The morning the raven arrived began like any other to which Brienne and Tormund had become accustomed. Waking in each other’s arms, they lounged together among the furs, enjoying the nearness of one another. For some reason neither had any desire to leave the warm pleasures of their bed. Brienne had gotten her moon blood a few days before and, unable to practice their usual intimacy, the two had busied themselves finding new ways to explore their bodies. The night before Tormund had instructed Brienne in the finer points of using her mouth to take him to the very edge of his desires. Apprehensive at first, she soon found herself aroused, and delighting in the sensations she was giving him which were clearly driving Tormund out of his mind.

As they laid together in the morning light, their hands entwined, Brienne could not help but smile in the glow of the previous night. She decided she wanted another taste. She let loose of Tormund’s fingers, grinned mischievously, and began to slide down him under the furs. Understanding her plan he moaned his approval slowly. Locking his fingers behind his head, he reclined luxuriously with a dreamy smile on his face, and waited for her to begin. The thought of her enticing lips around him sent thrilling waves down his body, and when Brienne reached her target she found him ready for her. She began to trace him slowly with her tongue. It was just as she was taking his entirety into her watering mouth that there came a rapping on the doorway frame from the outside.

Tormund let out a frustrated whine. “Go Away!” He bellowed.

Brienne poked her head up from under the furs, and threw the covers back, exposing her face. Tormund’s heart melted at the vision of her mussed hair, and luscious lips. ‘Whoever it was at that door, had better prepare to die.’ He thought.

Brienne smacked his healed ribs softly and playfully. “Oh stop.” She teased, sitting up and reaching for her thick robe. “What if it’s the girls?” She suggested.

Tormund followed her and pulled on his britches as they left their comfortable paradise. “They wouldn’t knock.” He exaggerated his tone, quickly kissing her neck. She squirmed happily at the familiar and wonderful tickle.

Brienne reached the door first and swept aside the fur covering. Tormund following her closely. Outside, stood a young Free Folk man who Brienne remembered was somehow distantly related to Tormund. It was obvious that he had interrupted a romantic moment and his face reddened with embarrassment. “Tormund, Brienne.” He began, clearing his throat. Brienne loved how the Free Folk addressed her using her first name and did not use either Lady or Ser. It made her feel one of them. The young man continued. “The village council has received a raven from Winterfell. It is marked for both of you. The council would like to see you.”

Brienne and Tormund eyed each other uneasily. “Fine.” Tormund answered. “We’ll be there.” He gruffed, still fuming at having his morning of passion with Brienne cut short.

The light inside the hut grew dim once more as they closed the skin flap, and turned inside to ready themselves. Brienne stood staring straight ahead of her, a pit forming in her stomach, as if her dream had come to an end. She wondered why she had not seen it coming. She had lost herself completely in the happy little life she and Tormund were leading so far North. She had nearly allowed herself to forget the promise she had made to Lady Catelyn, and to Queen Sansa. Almost forgotten that her life was not completely her own. That she had Sworn herself to the Starks.

Tormund saw her distress and now knew her so well he understood what she was thinking. He slid his arms around her her waist and pulled her to him. “They can’t have you.” He declared.

Brienne rested her forehead against his, and shook her head. “I have no choice.” She stammered, lifting her head and searching his eyes for the peace she needed. “I swore an oath.” She reminded him.

He raised his hands and held her face. She had never seen the forceful piercing energy in his expression. “No one is going to take you from me.” He swore. “Where ever you must go. Whatever you need to do, I will be by your side. That is my oath. To you.” His intensity, and the power in his voice took the worry from Brienne’s brow. She stood there, protected by his arms, her trembling ceasing, and knew she was the luckiest woman in the world. She melted into him, and he kissed away the last of her dread.  
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Before midday, Brienne and Tormund stood in the gathering tent in front of the clan council. Brienne unfolded the parchment that had been sent North and studied it for a quiet moment, as all around her fell silent. After reviewing the text of the note, she read it aloud.

“An Essosi fleet has anchored off Eastwatch. Jon Snow has journeyed there to command Northern troops. Queen Sansa requests both of you to rendezvous with him there to assist with what appears to be an eminent attack.”

She folded the note, and looked up at Tormund with trepidation. Her blood ran cold at the thought of another campaign, especially now when she had begun to dream of other things. “They are going to strike the North where it is already vulnerable.” Brienne predicted with conviction.

“If they’ve sent Jon, it’s certain.” Tormund affirmed. “The attack will be soon.” He pondered, stroking his beard, worried for his friend. He could not help but shutter at the thought of Eastwatch, and the last time he had seen the foreboding shell it had become.

The elders turned to each other, whispering with concern. It did not take long for them to reach consensus. An ancient silver haired relic of a man turned and announced what had been determined. “We have promised our support to House Stark. We have pledged to defend the north.” He asserted. The old man looked at Tormund and Brienne, and spoke with authority. “Gather those who wish to fight. You will leave at first light tomorrow.” It was decided.  
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The next morning, before they left the little house that had become their nest, Brienne turned and surveyed the round room. She fought the lump in her throat, and the quivering of her lip. She had been raised in a fortress, the seat of her family’s banner. She had known luxury that had allowed her to be a woman able to choose her own path in life. She had served the most powerful houses in Westeros. Yet, this small, skin covered shelter on a far away, wind swept, snow covered plain felt more her home than the one in which she had been born. Brienne loved Evenfall. She loved her father. She was privileged in her service. However, it was here she wanted to be.

Noticing the reluctance in Brienne’s stance, Tormund took her hand in his. “What is it? My love?” He asked with care.

She smiled at him, her adoration clear. “I’m going to miss this place.” Brienne smiled wistfully. “I wish I had something to leave here, something of necessity.” She admitted. “To...To make it mine.” She looked down.

He gently took hold of both her hands and drew her round to him. “Brienne.” He said, surprised she had not realized how accustomed he was to her here. “It’s yours. It will always be yours.” He confirmed.

The breath froze in her lungs as he spoke the words, once voiced by another. Her mind went unbidden to the day Jaime had said the same thing to her, when he had given her Oathkeeper. She remembered feeling so honored, so unworthy. It had been the greatest gift anyone had ever given her, until now. Jaime had given her a weapon, a position, a mission. Tormund was giving her a home, a place, a life. She never before had so much to lose.

“Promise me.” Brienne clung to Tormund. “Promise me that we will return. That when we do we will never leave, and that everything is going to be alright.”

“I swear it.” He proclaimed. “On my life.” He whispered to her before he took her in his arms and kissed her with a softness and assurance that made her believe him with all her heart.

They walked reluctantly out of the hut, and found two sad faced young girls waiting in the snow, eyes cast down as if they could barely hold back their tears. Munda’s and Anya’s mothers had made them promise they would not interrupt Tormund and Brienne as they prepared to for their journey, so they decided to wait outside and catch the couple as they left. Brienne had never seen Tormund’s daughters look so mournful. They girls shuffled up to them and stopped them in their tracks, trying to block their path.

Suddenly both girls cried out and wrapped their arms around Brienne. “Don’t Go! Please!” They begged. Brienne gave Tormund a loving look, and then closed her eyes, hugging them tightly.

When the girls released Brienne, they stepped back and eyed her with distress. Tormund shrugged his shoulders and gave his daughters an exaggerated hurt look. “No, really. Don’t worry about me or anything.” He joked, pretending to insulted.

The girls rolled their eyes at him. “It’s not funny.” Munda declared. “We know you’re going to be alright. You always are.” She informed him.

“You win every time you fight.” Anya agreed.

“So does Brienne.” Tormund was happy that his children had such faith in him. He did not want them to worry, but he also wanted to reassure himself that Brienne would be fine.

“Really?” Anya questioned, finding yet something else for which to hold Brienne in awe.

Brienne realized that Tormund was trying to take the worry from their minds, and she was glad to have a part in that. “Your father is right.” She told the girls, giving them the best confident smile she could manage.

“She’s the strongest woman North or South of the wall.” Tormund bragged, his eyes beaming as he looked at Brienne. “And the best fighter.” He added proudly.

Brienne kneeled down in the snow and took each girl by the hand, her armor feeling rigid and unfamiliar to her after spending the last weeks in furs. She breathed as deeply as she could, and spoke softly. “I don’t want you to worry.” She told them as she felt Tormund rest his hand on her shoulder. “I can take care of myself.” She acknowledged for them, moving her hands to cup their cheeks. Her gaze fell lovingly upon them and she held them with her eyes for a long moment, trying to memorize their faces. She remembered how nervous she was to meet them, and now she loved them like they were her own. They were part of the man she loved, and she adored them. “Listen to me.” She drew their attention from the ground upon which they stared. “I have reasons to return here, now. Nothing is gong to keep me from coming back.” She swore to them with a brave smile.

The girls nodded, and threw their arms around her neck. Tormund fought happy tears as he watched the closeness that had developed between his daughters and Brienne. This was his family, and he would fight the Seven themselves to protect them.

“Take care of Papa.” Anya tasked as she stood from Brienne’s embrace.

Brienne nodded emphatically, and stared with affection at Tormund. “I will.” She pledged. “I swear it!”

The girls led the horses as they followed their father and Brienne to edge of the settlement. The little group traveled the path in silence, unable to speak. They walked slowly, Tormund and Brienne locked in each other’s arms. The camp seemed eerily quiet and deserted. The usually bustling spaces, this day held few others. The quiet huts sat solemnly as if the village itself was bidding them farewell.

Their progress was stopped as they crested a small hill that bordered the village. They gasped at the site that met them. A hundred or more Free Folk men on horseback waited on the snowy expanse to accompany them. Brienne and Tormund looked at each other in disbelief and then back at the crowd. The village was showing itself true to their cause of defending the North. They were also giving their support to Tormund and Brienne and their life together. Tormund stood back as Brienne prepared to mount her horse. He gently took hold of his daughters and held them close. They wrapped their arms around their father and squeezed him. “Take care of each other.” He told them.

They glanced back at Brienne, and then looked seriously at Tormund. “You too.” Munda ordered him. He nodded decidedly to her.

Tormund climbed atop his horse, and looked at Brienne with anticipation. She bowed her head in response, telling him she was ready. Together they maneuvered their mounts around Munda and Anya, leaving the girls standing atop the hill watching them ride to meet the small company they would command. They rode slowly through the waiting men, most of whom seemed eager for a fight. Together the warrior couple took their place at the front of the troops and signaled for them to follow. They left behind the small village in which they were so happy, and journeyed toward their duty.

  
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By the time they reached Eastwatch, they were nearly five hundred strong. Stopping at every Free Folk encampment along the way, Tormund and Brienne pleaded their case to elders, and found overwhelming support. They could scarce deny that defending the North also meant defending their North, the True North. The battalion of Wildlings made an ominous display as they arrived at the ruins of the once great fortress. They joined a legion of Northmen ready and eager to fight once more to save their home. Tormund shuttered to think of how different the once great fortress looked since the last time he had been there at the behest of Jon to ensure the safety of the North.

It was Jon Snow who rode out eagerly to greet Tormund and Brienne. “It took you long enough, you old goat!” Jon smiled at Tormund as he drew his horse up next to him, slapping him on the back jovially. They clasped hands in a warm greeting.

“I bring you every able bodied man North of the Wall, and that’s the thanks I get?” Tormund joked, winking at Brienne who stifled a laugh.

“Ser Brienne.” Jon bowed his head respectfully. “Have you found the True North agreeable?” He asked, wondering if she had yet fallen even further under the spell of Tormund’s charm. He soon got his answer.

“Yes. Quite agreeable.” Brienne answered, never taking her eyes from Tormund and gracing him with a loving grin. Tormund’s smile as he gently took Brienne’s hand, told Jon how close the pair had grown.

“Well.” Jon chuckled. “It appears you two are getting along much better.”

Brienne blushed, and Tormund shrugged. “What can I say?” He beamed. “She couldn’t resist me!” He winked at her.

Brienne playfully rolled her eyes. Jon eyed her quizzically. “You realize this is only making his bluster worse?” He mocked.

“Oh, I am well aware of that.” Brienne agreed. She then returned her eyes to Tormund’s and tilted her head. “Although, I kind of like his bluster.” It was obvious her comment was only meant for her lover. Tormund raised his hand and pinched her chin. Jon was shocked at the sound he heard next. Brienne of Tarth, giggled.

Jon could not have been happier for them, yet the expectation of the upcoming battle weighed heavy on his mind. He was also afraid of what they might do next if left in each other’s company a moment longer. He chucked Tormund on the arm. “We should see to setting up the Free Folk camp.” He suggested.

“Ser Brienne. Ser Davos is in the commanders tent planning strategy. I am certain he would appreciate your input. We’ll join you later.” Jon informed her.

Understanding the need to see to their duties, Brienne and Tormund parted reluctantly from each other, but not before leaning in on the backs of their horses, and sharing a goodbye kiss. Jon looked away to give them some privacy, and to hide the smile that grew on his face at their affection for each other. They guided their mounts in opposite directions to see to the business at hand.

As they rode away, a huge grin was still plastered Tormund’s face. Jon looked at him laughing. “She loves me, my boy! She loves me!” Tormund declared with a howl. Jon shook his head, wearing an amused smile.  
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Later that day, after attending to the organization of the Free Folk troops, Jon and Tormund joined the other Northern leaders in the command tent. Deep in thought, her brow creased with concentration, Brienne brightened when she saw Tormund. She had spent most of the afternoon devising a number of strategies for many possible scenarios. King Bran had sent Ser Davos Seaworth, his Master of Ships, to command the defense for this possible attack from the sea. Certain there would be a large number of wounded, the King had also sent Grand Maester Samwell Tarly to oversee preparations for the care of the injured. The former Nights Watchman had already single handedly turned what was left of Eastwatch’s battlement walls into a functioning field infirmary. Although delighted to see his good friend, it was unusual for a healer of his rank to be sent to the battlefield, and Jon wondered if perhaps Bran had foreseen the injury of anyone in particular. He shoved the question to the back of his thoughts, and reminded himself how many the North had already lost. Of course Bran would try to minimize casualties with the best medics in the Kingdom, he hoped.

The commanders were hunched over a large map of the beachhead and surrounding area. Wooden ships lay positioned over the water, and rough replicas of men symbolizing the different troops were arranged over the drawing of the land. Jon and Tormund had entered the tent during the middle of a heated discussion, and approached the table to stand next to Brienne. Tormund maneuvered himself so that he stood shoulder to shoulder with her. Her arm hung loose at her side. He reached out his fingers to caress hers within the folds of her heavy cloak. She eagerly entwined her knuckles around his, and held on tightly. They both relaxed at the comfort they found there.

“But what are they waiting for?” A stout, thick bannerman questioned nervously. The Essosi fleet had been anchored in the Bay of Seals for over a week. They had made no moves toward attack. The exotic looking ships of the east with their low wide hulls, and bright silken triangular sails simply lingered silent in the water.

“The new moon.” Tormund offered his expert opinion. “When the night will be black, and they can attack in secret.” He remembered his numerous onslaughts upon The Wall, and how his people would never climb exposed by the moonlight.

“That’s tonight.” Brienne spoke up troubled. Her own moon blood always stopped on the New Moon, and she had not bled since yesterday.

“I believe you could be right.” Ser Davos agreed, as dark eerie images of the Battle of Blackwater Bay flooded his mind. “Spread the word, and ready our troops.” He ordered as the commanders dispersed to prepare their units.

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The dim sun sank slowly below the far western horizon, and an ominous inky darkness settled over Eastwatch. The night was cold, and even the wind seemed to want nothing to do there, as it refused to cross the landscape. The forces poised along the shoreline grew more uneasy with each passing moment. Jon rode back and forth between command and the various field posts, ferrying communications and relaying reconnaissance. Tormund and Brienne stood side by side along with the Free Folk forces, waiting for the bedlam to begin.

“I don’t want you to worry about me.” Brienne told Tormund softly, without turning to look at him. Instantly, she could feel his eyes burning through her.

Brienne continued. She felt as though she needed to ensure that she would not be a distraction to his safety. “I don’t want you to fight this battle to protect me.” She shuddered at what the consequences of his attentions being drawn away from the fighting could mean. “I want you to fight to keep yourself alive.”

“I will watch over you.” He said with determination, unwilling to give up that purpose.

“Please.” Brienne took his hand and turned to face him. “You know I can do this. You’ve seen me fight.” She reminded him. Tormund smiled at the images of Brienne’s fierceness running through his mind.

“I know.” Tormund growled softly, slightly aroused. “You fight better than any man on this field.” He declared proudly. “Well, except for me.” He shrugged.

Brienne laughed quietly. “Yes.” She nodded, and then took his face in her hands. Her seriousness chilled him. “Listen to me. If this is our end. I need you to know that you have given me more love, and have made me feel more cherished than anyone in my life ever has.” Her glare bore deep into his soul. “Do you hear me?” She asked “Anyone.” She emphasized. Brienne needed him to grasp that he was the love of her life. That as much as she may have cared about Jaime, that she had never felt for him what she felt for Tormund. He understood her meaning.

She continued. “ Munda and Anya need you. Please promise me that you will do everything you can to return to them.” Brienne beseeched him.

Brienne’s concern for his daughters took Tormund’s breath away. However, he would not allow her to even imagine this could be the end of them, of either of them, or of this fantastic journey they were just beginning. “I promise we will both return to them.” He smiled, fighting tears of love for her.

Brienne took his hand, and held it hard to her heart. “Alright. Me too.” She acquiesced, blinking back tears of her own.

Only moments later, a loud call came from waterline pierced the ominous silence. It was followed by the rippling sound of a thousand oars breaking the still water. The Northern troops tensed as one. A terrifying stirring of the air came toward them from overhead. “Arrows incoming,” someone shouted from nearby. The sky was suddenly bright with the deadly points of light from a barrage of flaming projectiles hurtling toward them. Brienne and Tormund bent low to avoid the bombardement. There was no time to relax in the fact that the first volley had missed them, as another followed immediately after. The splashes and shouts from the beach signaled that the battle had begun.

Both eager to rush ahead and end the fight, Brienne and Tormund drew their weapons in harmony, and began to race forward. Suddenly Brienne’s outstretched hand caught the furs on Tormund’s chest and pulled him to her. She brought her lips to his and stopped him with a passionate, forceful kiss. “Be careful!” She ordered him.

He nodded, hoping the taste of her on his lips would not dissipate. “You, too.” He pleaded to her, glaring darkly into her eyes.

Together they turned to the fighting, raised their swords, let out a chilling battle scream as one, and ran toward the bloodshed. The site of so many Essosi soldiers was shocking. They were monstrous in the dark, clad in their foreign armor, wielding huge curved wide swords and long spears. Together, Brienne and Tormund cut an easy path through the enemy. They fought side by side, their swords working in unison. It was as if they were two halves of the same fighting being. Where one would lunge, the other would parry. Where one would thrust, the other would slice. They attacked with ferocious precision. Their weapons cut through the enemy lines like footprints left through snow. On all sides of them, the forces of the North defended their home was a vengeance. Throughout the night Brienne and Tormund were a deadly force with which to be reckoned.

As morning approached and the steel gray light of dawn began to break over the dark ocean waves, the armies on the beach had thinned on both sides. Upon first glance it appeared that more Essosi lay dead and dying than the North had sacrificed. There were still pockets of fighting, however. Along the far southern edge of the shoreline where Brienne and Tormund found themselves, skirmishes continued to be put down. It was as the light was beginning to paint the sky that Tormund realized how far he had been separated from Brienne during the battle. He quickly scanned the sands and saw her fighting ahead of him. She was mesmerizing as she sliced her blade through a man twice her width, and equal in height, dispatching him easily.

Brienne had not a moment to catch her breath, as two more combatants barreled at her. Without hesitation Tormund raced toward her, desperate to assist. His eyes never left her as he sprinted in her direction. She spun around sharply upon the approach of the two Essosi guards, catching one in the throat from the front and slashing through the other’s gut from behind her as she pivoted. It was as she turned her shoulders with the momentum of her sword stroke, that Tormund saw the bloodied body of an Essosi soldier move at her feet. The man had appeared dead only moments before. Brienne did not realize the threat until she had no time to react. The invader used the last of his life to raise himself to his knees and hoist his spear. The sharp steel tip was large enough to pierce armor and glinted with the reflection of the morning sky. In a horrifying instant he drove his weapon deep into Brienne’s ribs.

“No!” Tormund bellowed. His mind refused to believe what his eyes had seen. His shriek resounded over the clamor of the battle.

Tormund struggled to run to Brienne through the remnants of the melee. His body seemed to move in slow motion as he watched the instant of pain turn to confusion on her face. She stared down at the spear hanging from her torso as if she could not realized what had just occurred. Her lips parted, trying to draw in breath. In shock, Brienne dropped her sword and brought her hands up to cover the wound, catching her own crimson blood in her palms. She stood for a moment, her mind trying to make sense of it. She regarded the stain on her hands and then her eyes looked up, finding Tormund’s still yards away, as she sank to her knees. Tormund’s mind raced with dread. How could this have happened? How could he have allowed himself to become distanced from her? Why had it not been him instead? He would bargain with the Gods if he could, to make it him kneeling bloodied on the ground instead of her. It was if he felt every inch of the spear as it ripped through Brienne’s body. If it had been his own flesh that had been shredded by the blade, it surely would have been far less torture than seeing it hatefully driven through the woman he loved.

He reached her as she began to crumple to the ground. Falling to his knees, he caught her. Brienne’s limp form leaned back into his arms. He could not bear the fear and bewilderment in her eyes as she stared up at him. He held her tight in his arms, the spear still protruding from her body, it’s shaft laying across the ground. Brienne’s eyes began to swim as if she could not focus on his face. He grew more desperate. “Stay with me.” He told her as he pressed his forehead to hers.

For one brief moment, Brienne saw Tormund through the haze beginning take over her vision. She raised her hand to touch his face. “Please.” He begged. Her fingers lingered on his cheek, and then fell to her side, leaving streaks of her blood down his jaw. Brienne’s head fell back against Tormund’s arm, and her eyes closed slowly.

“No!” Tormund bellowed once more, his body shaking with force as if he could will Brienne to be healed.  
————————————-  
Jon Snow heard Tormund’s cries over the reverberating tones of the battle still being waged. He turned to see his friend hunched over Brienne’a fallen body. His eyes grew wide with alarm. He remembered both times he had lost the women he love, and prayed that Tormund would not experience the pain of grieving the one who possessed his heart. Jon ran to where Tormund cradled Brienne, cutting down more Essosi men as he went. He dropped to his knees, fearing her life was already lost. Jon yelled Tormund’s name urgently. Once, twice, three times and still Tormund did not answer, his soul adrift in mourning thinking his love lost. It was then that Brienne inhaled sharply, her unconscious body taking over and trying to find the breath that was failing her. She was still fighting.

Feeling Brienne’s chest rise through her armor, and hearing the sharp gurgle in her throat, Tormund came back to himself. It was not over yet. He laid Brienne gently on the ground, and took hold of the spear in her side. Jon attempted to help by reaching for the upper part of the spear shaft.

“No! Don’t pull it out!” Tormund ordered. He had seen enough of his men wounded in battle, and in simple everyday life, that his instincts began to take over in caring for Brienne’s wound. She might very well bleed to death there on the beach if the spear tip was drawn from her body. Jon retracted his hands, and awaited further commands. Grabbing the spear shaft, Tormund groaned as he used all his might to snap the long wooden pole in two. Jon heard the wood splinter as it broke exactly where Tormund had meant for it to, leaving only a few inches still visible and sticking from Brienne’s ribcage.

“Help me get her armor off!” Tormund bellowed.

They quickly unfastened the stays on the metal plates that surrounded Brienne’s body. Tormund carefully slipped the breastplate around and over the protruding wood of the spear, discarding the steel covering on the ground. He reached to his hip and drew his dagger, using it to slice and remove Brienne’s mail, again throwing it aside without a thought. Her tunic was soaked with the blood that continued to spill from her wound. He sliced the linen covering as well, exposing her ribs and abdomen now reddened by the slick of her blood flow. Tormund ripped open his own fur and frantically tugged his tunic from where it was tucked into his britches. Tearing large strips from his clothing, he quickly wadded them between his hands and began shoving them into Brienne’s wound, careful not to push the spear tip any further.

“We need to get her to the infirmary.” Jon shouted.

Tormund did not look up, gathering Brienne in his arms as he stood. Jon took the lead, wielding his blade to fend off any who would block their path. They stepped on bodies and ran through rivers of blood as they hurried toward what still stood of the castle walls. Brienne lay limp in Tormund’s arms, and he trudged the seemingly endless distance as swiftly yet as gently as he could. The battlements were on a bluff that overlooked the frozen sea, and provided not much more than a wind break with the remains that still stood. It seemed more a cave than a structure, but was a welcome site when Jon and Tormund finally arrived in the opening that acted as a doorway.

Activities were bustling. Wounded were being carted in and casualties removed at an alarming pace. It looked more a repository of human misery than a place of healing. Jon forced their way past waiting men, as Tormund followed close behind with Brienne in his arms. The scene inside was little better. Half a dozen or so Maesters worked over the more seriously wounded, the soldiers’ insides exposed to view, countless apprentices at their sides. The floor was strewn with blood soaked rags and the more gory vestiges of battlefield surgery.

Jon’s eyes searched frantically until he found the capable genius he sought. “Sam!” He beckoned, urgency in his voice.

Grand Maester, Samwell Tarly was closing a Northern fighter who appeared little more than five and ten. He looked up startled hearing Jon’s voice, expecting Snow himself to be wounded. The expression on Jon’s face was more dire than if he were the one who had been run through. Then, Sam noticed Tormund behind him, carrying a wounded and bloodied Brienne of Tarth. Sam ordered his apprentice to finish the patient upon which he worked, and rushed to Jon and Tormund, shouting orders at others along the way.

“No! Wash the instruments first, then boil them!” Sam spoke over his shoulder to a group of orderlies as he approached Jon.

“That’s Brienne of Tarth!” Sam’s cried, barely stopping his momentum as he motioned them toward a waiting surgical table.

“Aye.” Jon acknowledged. “Spear wound!” He reported as Tormund carefully laid Brienne on the table.

“The point is still in her ribs.” Tormund added urgently. Sam could see the worry and fear on his face. It was obvious that Brienne was more to him than just a fellow soldier.

Sam began to examine the wound. He pressed around the outside of the puncture, and peered closely at the edges. Quickly he summoned several nearby medics to begin the surgery. As Sam began to pull the rough fabric that Tormund had stuffed into Brienne’s wound, she shuttered and groaned as if it caused her great pain. Tormund stiffened and gave Sam a threatening look. The apprentice who had finished Sam’s previous surgery hurried over carrying a dark bottle and a rag. He poured some clear liquid onto the cloth and held it for a few seconds over Brienne’s nose and mouth. She relaxed, and seemed to be merely sleeping.

“Who packed her wound?” Sam demanded.

Tormund stepped up, hoping he had not done more harm than good. “I did.” He admitted, his face strained with worry.

Sam finished his inspection of Brienne’s medical needs, moved around the table to face his friends, and clamped Tormund on the shoulder. “You may have just saved her life.” He declared approvingly.

Tormund appeared relieved for a moment. Then he looked at Sam desperately. “Save her. Please.” He implored. Sam could not speak. It was clear that the infamous Wildling was very much in love with the lady knight. All Sam could do was nod his head, and pray he would pull her through.

There was no time to lose. Sam turned from them, grabbed the necessary instruments which had suddenly appeared at his elbow, and began cutting an incision between Brienne’s ribs. Tormund steeled himself, planning to remain at Brienne’s side through the surgery. Within moments he and Jon were both nudged out of the way by Maesters and others hurrying to comply with Sam’s commands. Suddenly there was barely room for them to stand flush against the wall. Tormund could barely see Brienne through the crowd.

“Please.” One of the senior apprentices requested. “You will need to wait outside.” The young man said.

Tormund bristled and scowled a warning at the man. Jon grabbed his arm and pulled him from the room. Tormund fought him the whole way. “I need to stay with her.” He turned on Jon.

Understanding his friend’s hostility, Jon did his best to calm Tormund. “You need to let them work.” He answered.

“I want her to know I’m here.” Tormund pleaded, his face pained.

“She knows.” Jon tried to comfort him.

With no way of watching over Brienne, and no one upon which to unleash his anger, Tormund turned away from Jon and let loose his fury upon the battered castle wall. Clenching his fist and letting out a long furious yell, he slammed his knuckles over and over against the unmoving stones. His skin shredded against the rough masonry. However, he felt no pain, his mind so focused on Brienne and her ordeal. His injury was nothing compared to what she was going through. Jon stood back and gave him this release. When there was no more air left in his lungs to scream, and no effort left in his muscles he collapsed against the wall exhausted, and still terrified.

Slowly Jon slid down the wall and sat beside Tormund. “She’s in good hands.” He encouraged. Tormund eyed Jon remembering Sam’s clumsy and awkward ways when he had first met the youth.

Jon shrugged, conceding a bit. “Look, he may have been a shit Night’s Watchman, but he’s an excellent Maester. If anyone can see her through this, he can.”

They sat in silence for a long while. The world carried on around them. Word came that the battle had been won, and the Essosi fleet had been soundly defeated. Many of the eastern ships fell flaming beneath the waves, thanks to Northern archers, and saboteurs. The few that were limping out of the bay did not look as though they would make it back to their far away home ports. Shouts of victory rose from the beach as the Northerners celebrated their enemy’s failure. Outside the surgical room, their backs against the cold stone wall, Tormund and Jon could not share in the joy with Brienne still fighting from her life.

Tormund ran his hand over his drawn, worried face. He raised his red tear filled eyes to the sky remembering every wonderful moment he had spent with Brienne. He had stopped imagining anything but a life with her weeks ago. He knew that if this day ended without her, he would follow her to the Heavens by his own hand. As the thought left his mind, Sam walked slowly through the doorway, and out into the late morning air to find him. The Grand Maester was deliberate in his motions, and his face showed the exhaustion he would not allow his body to feel for hours.

Tormund rose, unsteady on his feet. He was afraid to try to read Sam’s expression. “How is she?” He asked with fear shadowing his hopes.

Sam looked at him, his eyes heavy. Taking a deep breath he delivered the news. “She made it through the surgery.” He reported, a wary smile finding his cheeks.

Tormund dissolved in relief as Jon grabbed his shoulders and shook him. He embraced Sam and nearly drew him off his feet. Sam smiled, happy he could bring good news. However, he was still cautious of declaring Brienne fully mended. “She’s not out of the woods yet.” Sam tempered Tormund’s happiness. “She hasn’t yet awakened, and there is still a risk of infecton.” He warned. “Her injuries were very serious. They will take time to heel.”

“I need to see her.” Tormund implored, his worry returning.

Sam smiled. “Follow me.” He nodded.  
—————————————  
Sam led Tormund and Jon through the surgical room, that was still a whirlwind of activity, into the neighboring chamber. The large room had been lined with low narrow cots, all now laden with the injured and dying. He brought them to a private alcove near the back. A large blanket had been hung from the low ceiling to allow separation from the recovering men. He held the curtain back to allow Tormund to enter first. Jon followed slowly.

Brienne lay unconscious and motionless on a small cot covered with a thin gray blanket, her skin faded and pale from loss of blood. Her breathing was weak and shallow. She appeared more dead than alive. When he saw her, Tormund’s legs buckled and he fell the ground at her bedside. Lacking the strength or wish to stand, he knelt by her motionless form. He took her hand and held it to his lips. Unable to be strong any longer, he stroked her hair and bent his face to hers, sobbing her name. Tormund lingered over Brienne, his tears falling upon her skin. He raised his eyes to her face, his fingers tracing the familiar lines of her cheeks. His mind filled with memories of the moments they had shared and visions of the life he hoped still to enjoy with her. Jon and Sam stood at the foot of the low bed, and gave Tormund the time he needed.

Finally he spoke, his voice a broken rasp. “When will she wake up?” He said dryly.

Sam cleared his throat. “That’s...That’s hard to say.” He stammered. “Her body has been through a great ordeal.” He said slowly. “She has to heal. That may take some time, and...” he paused.

“And?” Tormund questioned turning slightly in the young Maester’s direction, yet not willing to take his eyes from Brienne. He feared the reason Sam had not finished.

Sam cleared his throat and continued. “Well, there is always a chance of infection...” Sam cringed as the thought left his mouth. He sounded so cold and impersonal. He looked at Jon for help.

“She’s strong.” Jon encouraged. He moved closer to Brienne’s bedside, and layed his hand supportively on Tormund’s shoulder. “She has a reason to fight.” He reminded his friend. “She won’t give up.” Tormund nodded slightly, and returned his attention to Brienne.  
——————————  
Tormund kept silent vigil at Brienne’s bedside. He refused food or sleep, his entire being focused on willing her back to consciousness. Jon checked on his friend diligently. Ser Davos, and several of the Free Folk paid their respects and offered their prayers. Sam continued to care for Brienne and monitor her condition. Tormund barely realized they were in the room. His misery was relentless. The pain of watching Brienne fight for her life and being powerless to help her was more than he could bear. He blamed himself for leaving her side during the battle. He sat beside Brienne holding her hands, arms aching to gather the whole of her to him, and bargaining with the Gods to spare her.

After two days had passed, he finally heard her beloved voice, but something was wrong. “No.” Brienne moaned, her eyes still shut. Her breathing quickened, but did not deepen. “Don’t go.” She begged some unforeseen tormentor. “Please, don’t leave me.” She pleaded.

Tormund grew hopeful, but then his heart sank. Brienne was not waking. She was delirious. It seemed that her mind’s eye was giving her visions of the one who had left her. He was certain she was dreaming of the Kingkiller. He would not blame her. She could not be held responsible for what her mind saw in a dream state. Then, she spoke again, her voice weakening with every word.

“Tormund? Where are you?” Brienne pleaded. For an instant her eyes flew open. She peered at him through a fog. “Tormund, don’t leave me.” She implored urgently. “Tormund.” Brienne sought him once more.

Part of him wanted to soar, and would have if he had not been so afraid for her. It was him that she called for in her deepest need. The Kingskiller was as far from her mind as the most distant reaches of Essos were from them now. All Tormund wanted was to ease Brienne’s fear. He could not understand for a moment why she would, even in her most fevered nightmare, doubt that he would remain by her side. His eyes fell upon her troubled face, and then he realized with a stabbing in his heart that everyone she had ever loved had left her. Her mother, her brother, and her sisters had all died leaving her by herself with only her father. Although, the Evanstar still lived, even he had given his attentions and affections to the women he had brought into her home. In his own way, her father too had left her for others. Tormund grew sick thinking about how lonely Brienne must have been. All of the fools to whom she had been betrothed had rejected her. Then, when she finally thought someone had chosen her, even he had left her crying alone in the night. The pit in Tormund’s stomach filled with seething anger once again. He blamed Jaime Lannister for the fear and uncertainty that plagued Brienne’s dreams and made it impossible for her rest in the security of his own love for her, when she needed that belief the most. He swore that he would not leave her side. He would prove to her that his was the love upon which she could depend.

“Brienne. I’m here.” He choked back his tears. “I would never leave you.” His trembling fingers reached out to stroke her face, but the act only deepened his despair. Her cheeks were flushed bright red. Her skin hot to the touch.

“Sam!” He bellowed urgently. His eyes wide with horror. “Samwell Tarly!” He yelled again.

Sam, who had been checking on the patients in the ward, appeared around the curtain in an instant. Jon followed close on his heels. Tormund turned urgently to face them, and then quickly back to Brienne. “She’s burning up!” He shouted, frantically.

Sam rushed to the opposite side of Brienne’s cot. He felt her forehead. Tormund was right. She was running a very high fever. Sam pulled the blanket back, and lifted the tunic in which they had dressed her after the surgery. He inspected the laceration carefully, his face growing grim. “The wound is infected.” Sam’s forehead wrinkled as he squinted against the dim light. He peered at Brienne’s ribs. The incision was beginning to fester. Yellow and green puss glistens slick around the wound. A long band of red radiated outward from her stitches and painted the skin down to her waist.

Sam arose urgently from examining Brienne. He replaced the tunic that covered her, but pulled the blanket from the small bed, leaving her legs and arms exposed to the cool air. Gesturing to an apprentice tending to duties nearby he addressed Tormund. “We need to treat the infection, but we have to get the fever down.” Sam told him as the assistant reached his side.

“Bring sheets, and buckets of cold water.” Sam directed the young man, who ran quickly to comply. Then Sam turned to Tormund. “I’ll return shortly.” The Grand Maester told him. “I need to mix the remedies.” Tormund merely stared, his thoughts overcome with Brienne. Sam stole a distressed glance at Jon as he left the makeshift nook.

Jon regarded Tormund with a worried frown. He had never seen the fierce Wildling look so weak and frightened. His stare trailed down to Brienne lying frail on the cot. He could scarce believe it was really her. The tallest, strongest, and most formidable woman in Westeros now seemed so vulnerable and broken. His mind went back to what Bran had said a few months before, when Tormund and Brienne had been summoned to Winterfell. The boy king had seen them together, destined for each other. He had declared their furture was certain. Surely the Three-Eyed Raven had not been wrong. Jon could not understand why this was happening, and he prayed the Gods would be merciful to his friends.

Tormund sank back down on the small stool by Brienne’s bedside, lost in worry and misery. He held tight to her hand, trying to give her a lifeline. He wanted to be brave for her, but his own world was crumbling as her life seemed to be slipping away. He had always been strong, always been brave, afraid of nothing. However, now he felt anything but fearless. He brought his face to Brienne’s and kissed her motionless lips. Resting his head next to hers, it was his turn to beg. “Brienne.” Tormund pleaded. “Please. Please don’t leave me.” His request sounded like a whispered prayer.  
——————————-  
It was only minutes before Sam and the attendant returned, but for Tormund it seemed an eternity. The apprentice brought two large pails of water, and an armful of linens. He quickly dipped the sheets in the water and began laying them over Brienne’s fevered body. Sam carried a wooden bowl, a small knife, and several clean cloths. He set the basin beside Brienne’s bed, and sliced open the side of her tunic with the knife. Wiping the knife on a cloth, he began carefully scraping and cutting away the rancid parts of the wound on her ribcage. Even in her unconscious state, Brienne’s body reacting to the pain. She inhaled sharply and moaned in her sleep.

“You’re hurting her!” Tormund cried, and tried to stop Sam from parring away anymore of her diseased skin.

Sam pulled away. “I have to clear as much of the infection as possible, or it will poison her entire body.” He stated, trying to make Tormund understand.

Jon stepped up and restrained Tormund, pulling him down by the shoulder. “Let Sam work!” Jon demanded. “Please. He knows what he’s doing.” Pacified a bit by his friend’s insistence, Tormund gave in and let Sam finish although he watched him carefully.

Sam then retrieved the bowl and laid it on the bed beside Brienne. He began using his own fingers to scoop out the thick, dark, foul smelling paste that it held, painting it over Brienne’s wound. When he was satisfied with his handywork, he dressed the area with a clean cloth. The fabric was held in place by the concoction atop her skin.

When he finished, Sam pulled the cold damp sheet atop Brienne’s chest and wetted a few of his smaller linens. He wrung them out over the pail and folded them carefully, placing one behind her neck and the other over her brow. She began to shiver as the icy water from the sopping covers penetrated her blazing skin. The droplettes that ran down the sheets and puddled on the floor were warm by the time they reached the stone. Through it all Tormund never let go of Brienne’s hand.

The agonizing waiting began anew. Tormund looked every bit the part of an old bear sitting unmoving next to Brienne’s bedside in his rumpled furs, his beard scruffy with days of growth, his unkempt hair falling in front of his eyes. He did not care. His only care was Brienne. Jon watched with concern as his friend deteriorated by the day. He feared what Tormund might do if the worst should happen. Jon begged him to eat something, reminding him that he would do Brienne no good if he should fall over sick from hunger. Tormund conceded and tried a few bites of the stew that Jon had brought to him, but could barely keep it down. Jon’s worry for both Brienne and Tormund was excruciating.

Sam continued to see to Brienne’s care. He cleaned and redressed her wound with fresh poultices nearly every hour. He personally took over soaking clean linens in ice cold water and laying them over her frail form, now clad only in the thigh length tunic. Her body temperature was still dangerously high, and the fact that she had not regained consciousness troubled him. Most of the ward had been cleared of wounded as the forces had realized that no further attacks were imminent. In the private rear billet, Brienne continued to fight for her life.  
——————————-  
It was well past midnight. The darkness once more engulfed Eastwatch. A cold wind blew in from the sea. Jon sat on the floor leaning against the wall opposite the tiny makeshift room in which Brienne lay guarded by her Wildling lover. Tormund had not meant to fall asleep. He had sworn he would not rest until she was safe. However, the exhaustion of the days spent keeping vigil over her not only showed on his worn face but had taken a toll on his mind and body. As he had sat picturing her restored to health, he found the vision so comforting that he drifted off into the splendor of it. He saw her tall and strong, the very picture of courage and bravery. He sensed her loving arms around him, tasted her sweet kiss, and felt her fingers trailing through his hair. As he hunched there, lost in the shadows of his dreams, he realized he had awakened. Tormund still felt the caress of Brienne’s hand upon his skin. He allowed himself a moment to enjoy it before it disappeared. Then, he realized it was not leaving him. He caught his breath, praying he was not imagining the sensation. Her fingers moved once more through his hair. He raised his head and her hand fell upon his cheek. He caught her fingers and held them to his lips as he turned to gaze up at her face. Brienne’s eyes were open, and she watched him lovingly. The corners of her mouth turned up in the sweetest smile Tormund had ever seen.

Tormund’s heart lept into his throat with joy. He raised himself to Brienne’s face and kissed her softly. He was almost afraid to touch her as his hands shifted nervously from her fingers, to her waist, and finally lingered around her face. He could not control the happy tears that found his eyes, and dropped onto her skin.

“You’re awake.” He whispered, overcome with happiness. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He smiled, his lips trembling.

“Where am I?” Brienne’s voice was barely audible from days of not being used. Her throat was so dry it was a chore to force out the words.

Tormund was anxious to keep fear and uncertainty from her mind. “You were injured in the battle.” He told her as calmly as he could manage. “The wound became infected, and you’ve had a very high fever.” He caressed her now cool forehead, and stroked her hair. “But, you’re going to be alright now.” He told her, trying to convince himself.

Jon awoke to the sound Tormund’s voice. He had heard him speak to Brienne in her sleep many times over the past days, and was about to try to return to his slumber when he noticed Brienne’s hand move up Tormund’s arm, and he saw her blink. Jon jumped up urgently, barely believing his own eyes. “Sam!” Jon yelled, eager for good news.

Sam came quickly, and stopped short when he saw Brienne awake. A hopeful smile finding his face. “Well, this is a welcome site.” He grinned, stepping to Brienne’s side. “Ser Brienne, if I may examine the wound.” He asked.

Brienne nodded, and Tormund held his breath hoping that all was indeed well. Sam carefully pulled back the cold damp sheet and lifted the edge of Brienne’s tunic to reveal the poultice. He gently peeled back the linen and studied her injury. His fingers pressed at the edges of the wound. No colored discharge oozed for the incision as it had before. He nodded. Laying his hand on her forehead, Sam considered her temperature pensively. He took her wrist and felt her pulse. Replacing her hand gently at her waistline, his smile grew wider.

“The fever has broken.” Sam reported. “The wound is healing.” He relayed to them. He regarded Brienne and Tormund with relief. “She will need time to recover, but I would say she is through the worst of it.” He proclaimed. Behind him, Jon beamed at the happy news.

Tormund kneeled once more beside Brienne. He gently gathered her in his arms and kissed her with the days of longing that had been denied him. She met his lips with equal passion, her heart relieved that he had come through the battle unscathed. Brienne was glad it had been her and not Tormund that had been injured. She was not sure she could have survived watching him suffer. He laid her carefully back against the pillow, his face hovering over hers.

“The Gods have answered my prayers.” Tormund smiled at Brienne, certain he was the luckiest man alive.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tormund takes Brienne to Tarth to heal from her battle wounds and tries his best to win over her father, Lord Selwyn.

“I’m taking Brienne to Tarth to recover.” Tormund announced a few days after she had regained consciousness.

He had pulled Sam and Jon to the other side of the drape that had hidden her from the rest of the ward. Only now that she was awake and talking was Tormund comfortable with even a few feet of distance between himself and Brienne. He had seen to her every need since she had awakened. He had spooned warm broth to her weary lips, fetched blankets for her when she grew cold in the night, and saw to it that she drank the tea of herbs that Sam had ordered for her. What Tormund wanted most, was to get Brienne out of this terrible place. He wanted to take her somewhere she would be comfortable, somewhere she could rest and regain her strength. Before the thought even completely formed in his mind, he realized that place was her home, Tarth.

“Is she strong enough for the journey?” Jon questioned.

Sam considered Tormund’s demand. “She will certainly not survive a return journey North.” He conceded. “Even Winterfell is probably too great a distance.” Sam’s squinted, trying to think of all the reasons for and against such a journey.

“Tarth is farther.” Jon reminded them.

“Not by ship.” Tormund explained, his eyes gleaming at the thought of his intended gift to Brienne.

Sam nodded in agreement. “The traveling would be smooth, and she could rest in bed in the cabin.” He consented.

“The ships are returning to the docks since the invasion was halted.” Jon informed them. “Surely at least one must be going that far south.” He hoped.

“It’s settled, then.” Tormund declared rubbing his hands together in excitement. He pulled a small skin pouch filled with coins from his pocket. “I don’t want Brienne to know. I want to surprise her.” Tormund grinned hopefully.

“Say no more.” Jon laughed, eager to lend his help. “Let me go down to the docks and inquire about passage.” He offered.

Tormund’s smile grew wider, happy that he would not need to leave Brienne alone. He tossed the coins to Jon who pivoted on his heels. Slapping his friend on the back as he turned, Jon rushed away before Tormund could thank him.

Tormund turned to Sam, and grabbed the young man by the arms. “How can I thank you?” He asked earnestly. “You saved her. You brought her back to me.” He could not keep his composure as gratitude overwhelmed him, and he fought the lump forming in his throat.

“You should thank King Bran.” Sam offered humbly. “It was he that felt I could be of some good.” He was not willing to take all the credit.

“Well, I’ll thank the Gods for ye, Samwell Tarly.” Tormund said grinning broadly.

Their conversation was cut short by a whimper from Brienne’s bed on the other side of the curtain. Tormund wheeled around to return to her, angry at himself for being away from her longer than he had meant to. Sam followed quickly on his heels. Throwing the sheet aside they found Brienne weak, fatigued, and trying to sit up. She was not making the progress for which she had hoped. Attempting to push herself upwards toward the pillow, she winced in pain.

Tormund rushed to her. “What are you doing?” He admonished her, concerned. He did not let her answer, but continued trying to comfort her. “You are not to move a muscle.” He told her. “That’s what I’m here for.” He smiled, easing her back down onto the sheets, and then sitting beside her on the edge of the cot. Seeing that Tormund had matters well in hand, Sam back away to allow them privacy and to see to his rounds.

Brienne regarded him, woefully. “I’m not used to lying around.” She argued her case softly. “I need to get up and see to the post battle affairs.” She entreated.

Tormund took her hand and held it gently. “You need to heal.” He kissed her fingers and held onto her tighter.

“I can’t help it.” She rolled her eyes lovingly at him. “Inactivity is not in my nature.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked so miserably at him that he could not help but chuckle at the frustrated expression on her face, which he found irresistibly adorable. Brienne swatted Tormund’s arm playfully. “It’s not funny.” She scowled.

“I know.” He conceded, wrapping his arms gently around her. “It will only be a little while longer. I promise.” He told her.

Brienne glared at him, shocked. Then she squinted at him in suspiciousion. “What are you planning?” She wondered.

“A surprise.” He kissed her temple, and tried to force the smile off his face at the thought of sailing to Tarth with her.

“Tell me.” Brienne begged.

Tormund shook his head vehemently. “No.” He declared. “You, my lovely knight, will just have to wait.” He held her as tight as he dared. How good it felt to have her in his arms again. It was only a few days before that he feared he might never hold her again. His entire world had been restored to him. He would hold onto her forever.

As Tormund embraced Brienne he felt her shiver in his arms, her chest rising and falling forcefully. Pulling back from her he studied her face worriedly. She was crying. “Did I hurt you?” Tormund pleaded.

Brienne smiled at him through her tears. “No.” She stared at him as though she were trying to memorize him. “You didn’t hurt me.” She whispered.

He brought his fingers to her face and stroked her cheek, trying to ease her. “What is it?” He asked, worried.

Brienne looked down and shook her head as if trying to force an image from her mind. She breathed as deeply as she was able with her injured ribs caging her lungs. “When I looked at you just now, I remembered something.” She explained. “When that Essosi soldier ran his spear into me...” She paused with a shutter. Tormund pulled her closer. “When he stabbed me, I looked through the battle and saw you there.” She brought her eyes to his, large tears sliding down her cheeks. “All I could think of was that I was so glad you were unharmed.” She clutched his hands. “I just realized how close I came...” she halted, not wanting to voice her fears.

Tormund put his finger to Brienne’s lips, stopping her from finishing. “I know.” He nodded. Now that she was safe, he could barely stand to acknowledge the battle that might have led to so much worse. “You’re alright now. You’re going to heal, and be even stronger.” He willed her.

She stared even deeper into his eyes, and shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.” She brought her face closer to him. “I realized how close I came to losing you.” Her pained eyes showed the terror she found in that thought.

He was astounded by her. She had come so close to death, and yet it was his safety that concerned her the most. He closed his eyes and rested his head against hers. “I swear. You will never lose me.” He vowed to her as their lips met.  
——————————————  
Brienne drifted quietly back from her dreams. In her mind, she and Tormund had returned to the North, and were living their happy life together in their little skin house. So lost she had been in her sweet imaginings that she had slept soundly for hours. Jon had returned quickly, the same day he had offered to book passage for Brienne and Tormund on a ship heading south. The last thing Brienne remembered was Tormund lifting her from the cot in which she had fought for her life. She had fallen asleep in his arms before they left the ward. He had set her on a horse, climbed up behind her, and engulfed her in his arms. She had hardly budged, her body still consumed with the business of healing her wounds. Tormund had not given her a hint as to where they were going or how they were getting there.

Awakening slowly, Brienne’s senses returned to her gradually. The first thing to which she became aware was that she was still wrapped securely in Tormund’s arms as he slept next her, his head resting against her neck. She smiled lazily. For a moment it was as if she was still in her dream, and they were tucked under the furs of their warm bed in the North. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, she realized her surroundings were not made of animal skins, but of wood. The bed where they laid was unfamiliar, and she felt herself rocking and swaying. Her eyes growing wide, she craned her neck trying to gain a better view of their accommodations. Tormund felt Brienne move next to him, and woke with a low sigh. He had been dreaming of their life together as well.

“Are we on a ship?” Brienne questioned, her surprise was only tempered by the knowledge that she was secure with Tormund.

“We are.” Tormund answered, breathing in deep the scent of her as he nuzzled her neck.

Brienne’s face brightened. “Are we headed North?” She asked hopefully.

“I am not saying a thing.” Tormund grinned at her playfully. Brienne relaxed, sensing his ease. It was clear that they were safe, and he obviously had a plan.

Tormund carefully drew back the blanket that covered him and reluctantly crawled from the bed. His back to Brienne, he stretched sumptuously, letting out a loud groan. From the bed, she expelled a complaining sigh when she saw he was completely and gloriously naked. Brienne enjoyed the reaction of her body at the sight of him, but frowned in frustration knowing she had not the strength to carry out the actions she was contemplating. Watching him cross the room and warm a cup of water over the flame of a candle, Brienne moaned at the thought of how close she wanted to be to him.

“You are a cruel, cruel man.” She fussed sarcasticly.

He smiled to himself as he added the herbs Sam had given him for Brienne’s care to the water. Satisfied with the mixture he crossed back to the bed, set the cup down on a nearby wash stand, and propped Brienne up on the pillows. He sat gently beside her. “Don’t worry, my love.” He comforted her. “When you are healthy again, we will be making up for a great deal of lost time.” He kissed her enticingly.

Brienne ran her fingers up his neck, and through his hair. As she delighted in his kiss, her hands trailed down his chest. “Promise?” She smiled when they parted.

“You will be begging me to stop.” Tormund chuckled, retrieving the cup from the bedside. “Now drink your tea.” His eyes gleamed. “Maester’s orders.” He commanded. Brienne’s eyes danced with glee over the rim of the cup as she dutifully complied.  
————————————-  
They had been at sea for nearly four days when finally they docked at Tormund’s secret destination. Brienne had been too weak to stray from the small bed in their cabin. Tormund cared for her with the utmost attention, seeing to her every need. On the rare occasion that he did need to venture topside, he was gone for only a few minutes and returned to Brienne’s side quickly. She spent most of the journey sleeping, and he had watched over her as if he were her own sworn shield.

Tormund wrapped his own fur outer coat around Brienne’s shoulders. She had worn only a light tunic they had given her at Eastwatch and her britches. Even though they were, unbeknownst to her much further south and the weather much warmer, Tormund would take no risks of Brienne getting chilled. He carefully pulled her boots up her calves, and then brought her gently from the mattress into his protective arms. He would carry her to the horse he had charged a deckhand to procure for them.

“I hope this makes you happy.” He told her lovingly as he walked to the door, carrying Brienne with him. As they had neared Tarth, he had begun to second guess himself. He hoped his surprise would be a welcome one. “Ready?” Tormund smiled hopefully at her, almost timidly.

“As I’ll ever be.” Brienne nodded, eager to discover the mystery destination to which he had brought her.

Tormund opened the door and carried her out onto the deck and into the bright sunshine. He tried to shield her eyes, but she squinted a little as the light shocked her vision. He waited, letting her get used to her surroundings. As the glare cleared from her sight Brienne saw the soaring mountain peaks that descended gracefully to the sapphire waves among which she had grown. She gasped, realizing where they were. She breathed in the sweet salt air, and let the warmth flow through her skin.

Brienne turned to Tormund, her arms wrapped around his neck, her eyes glazing with happy tears. “You’ve brought me to Tarth.” She proclaimed in disbelief.

Tormund gave her a happy smile, his eyes misting to match her happiness. “I wanted you to recover someplace warm and comfortable.” He regarded her with such caring that this time her breathlessness was not caused by her wound.

Brienne pressed her cheek to his, caressing his jawline with her trembling hand. “I don’t deserve you.” She whispered.

He closed his eyes and drank in the feel of her in his arms. “Oh no, my angel.” He answered lowly. “That’s the other way around.” His adoring eyes washing over her were warmer than the southern sun under which they stood. Brienne thanked him with a long sweet kiss.

Their vessel landed at Castle Port, a bustling settlement on the Western side of the island, not far from Brienne’s ancestral home of Evenfall. The piers were busy this day. A number of ships had docked at the warf and were unloading all sorts of cargo. Crates lined the pathways, loaded with exotic wares. Tormund had never seen such wonders. It was clear to him why Brienne had felt herself so drawn to a life of adventure. The world must have seemed so magnificent, and vast as she grew. He thanked the Gods her path had led her to him.

They walked slowly down the gangplank and onto the wharf, enjoying the sites that met their eyes, Brienne nestled comfortably in Tormund’s arms. The horse he had paid for waited, tied near the dock. As they made their way through the crowd, the throng of inhabitants began to notice them. Snippets of shocked chatter reached their ears.

“That’s Lady Brienne.” A woman’s voice recognized the tall blonde woman in the stranger’s grasp.

“Lord Selwyn’s daughter.” A man commented, shocked.

“...with a...a Wildling.” Someone gasped.

Brienne felt the anger begin to well up within her. These people that she had been raised among, gawking behind her back, once again. It was the same rage that fired her heart as when they had whispered “Brienne the Beauty” in muffled tones behind her back. This time, however, it was not shame that burned within her, but pride and protectiveness. How dare they act as if the man she loved was something of which to be ashamed.

“I’m sorry.” Brienne apologized to Tormund, embarrassment forcing an unwanted blush to her face.

Tormund chuckled. “Do you think I haven’t heard those words before, from other people, in other places?” He questioned, amused. “They don’t bother me at all. These fools matter nothing to us.” He lightly brushed her cheek as if to wipe away the redness. She smiled understandingly at him, comforted by his strength.

They reached their mount to more gaping mouths and surprised reactions. Tormund lifted Brienne atop the horse, and jumped up beside her. He reached around, pulling her close, and took up the reigns. Brienne laughed softly in Tormund’s ear. “People on this island do love to talk.” She rolled her eyes. Then those same eyes sparked with a mischief that would not have occurred to her before he had entered her life. “Let us give them something to talk about.” She glared seductively at him.

Tormund laughed heartily. “What do you have in mind?” He acted as if he could not imagine what Brienne was thinking.

Brienne melted back into arms and lifted her face to his, smiling. He bent his neck and rested his lips against hers. In a moment their lazy kiss had turned animated and passionate. Tormund cradled Brienne’s head in his palm as she leaned backwards against his hand, his other arm tightening possessively around her waist. Brienne ran her fingers up Tormund’s back and grasped his shoulder. The astonished gasps that rose from the crowd were inaudible to their ears, as they lost themselves in each other. Due to Brienne’s injuries, they had been unable to share the intimacy they had known. This kiss, there in front of the stunned crowd, threatened to ignite their denied passions and they were forced to pull away from each other before they could not stop. The smiles on both of their faces told each other how much their public declaration had thrilled them.

As Tormund turned the horse toward the road to Evenfall that Brienne had shown him, they noticed two armored young men on horseback watching them with great interest. Before they had even moved, the men had spurred their mounts and raced off down that very road. Brienne motioned toward their retreat. “Undoubtedly reporting events to the Evenstar.” She told Tormund with a sneer. “Nothing happens on this island that my father does not know about.” Tormund regarded her words with some apprehension. Winning over Brienne’s father had been the one part of the journey he had not considered.  
————————————  
They traveled for a short distance along a sand covered path that cut across the edge of a golden beach. Tormund squinted at the sunshine that played and glistened off the waves. He had never seen anything so bright in his life, save for Brienne’s eyes. The famed sapphire ocean water was rivaled only by their striking blue depths. He turned to watch her as they rode. She was smiling. The pleasant, relaxed, contentment she radiated made him feel wonderful. He knew he had done the right thing bringing her here. She noticed him staring at her.

“It is beautiful? Isn’t it?” She looked at him, hoping he found Tarth agreeable. Then she noticed he wasn’t even looking at their surroundings anymore.

He did not take his eyes from her as he answered. “It certainly is.” He concurred as he kissed her.

As they rounded a dune, Evenfall Hall came into view. The fortress that protected the island stretched upward from a rocky hill that jutted from the beach, overlooking the Straits of Tarth to the North and Shipbreaker Bay to the south. The walls were the same color as the sand, and shone in the bright sun. It’s towers stood taller than those of Winterfell. Thick walls anchored the castle to the land as if it were part of the island itself. It was an imposing sight.

Lord Selwyn was already waiting astride his steed at the gates of Evenfall when Brienne and Tormund arrived, the same armored men they had seen at the docks, flanking him at a distance. Brienne sat up and smiled at her father as they approached, happy to see him. Tormund pulled up the horse only a few feet from Brienne’s father. The Evenstar regarded the Wildling whose arms were wrapped around his daughter. He wondered at the obvious bond between them. The old man could not help but return his daughter’s bright grin. It had been so long since she had visited, and he had missed her terribly.

Selwyn dismounted and bounded the few steps to meet them with power and authority. Brienne gave Tormund a loving nod, and he slid her from his protective grip into the waiting arms of her father. “My darling girl.” Selwyn proclaimed as he held Brienne close.

“Father.” Brienne exclaimed with relief, happy tears finding her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, embracing Selwyn joyfully.

Tormund climbed down from the horse and backed away a few steps. He would allow them their time. He understood their need for a reunion. If it had been one of his daughters who had nearly died, he would want his time with her. He stood quietly in the background, enjoying Brienne’s happiness.

“I got word of the battle, and that you were injured.” Lord Selwyn said holding Brienne tighter. “I was out of my mind with worry. I almost lost you.” He lamented painfully, squeezing his eyes shut trying to force away the horrible image.

“I had the best of care.” Brienne smiled looking over her shoulder at Tormund. She was eager to introduce the man she loved to her doting father, certain the Evenstar would be instantly fond of him. “Father, this is Tormund Giantsbane, of the Free Folk.” She beamed.

Selwyn followed her line of site to the flaming haired, bearded, Wildling with whom his daughter had been entwined only moments before. He turned Brienne around in his arms, still supporting her, and regarded Tormund. “It seems I am in your debt.” He said gratefully. “You brought my little girl home to me in one piece.” He embraced Brienne tighter.

Tormund bowed his head to Lord Selwyn, mindful of showing Brienne’s father the utmost respect. “It was the only thing I could do.” He confessed. The Evenstar noticed how Tormund never took his eyes from Brienne, and how she seemed breathless in the Wildling’s gaze.

Selwyn had heard of the Free Folk, as they called themselves. That rumored barbaric race who lived north of The Wall. The legends that had trickled throughout Westeros held that they were savages who refused to show loyalty to any man, and whose society was uncivilized and lawless. Most in Westeros, especially further North lived in constant fear of them, as it was believed they were ready to invade at any moment. For his part, Selwyn had never quite believed those myths. He had always wondered that if the Wildlings had been so eager to attack in the south, why had they not simply built boats and sailed around The Wall? If their society was so brutal and disorganized how did they still exists? He always suspected the legends were based more on southern fear of the unfamiliar, than actual truths. This particular Free Folk man seemed to have taken excellent care of his daughter, and that was all that mattered to him.

For a moment they stood in nervous silence. Then Brienne’s legs buckled. She was still weak and unused to standing for long. Lord Selwyn tried to tighten his grip around her, but Brienne reached out, searching for Tormund’s arms. Observant to every change in her, Tormund was beside her in an instant. Sensing Brienne’s need, Selwyn released her into Tormund’s urgent grasp. In one fluid motion, he lifted Brienne into his arms, and rested her head on his shoulder. The quick burrowing of their foreheads together did not escape the old man’s notice, neither did the look of worry and concern on Tormund’s face.

“You are still weak.” Selwyn exclaimed. “We should get you to your chambers.” He motioned for Tormund to follow him, and led the way into the heart of Evenfall Hall.

They walked through the soaring vastness of the Great Hall, up the grand marble staircase, and down the airy main hallway of the second story. Brienne’s chambers were on the south side of the castle. The rooms that comprised her suite were large and light-filled. A terrace overlooked Shipbreaker Bay, and open doors filled the space with warm breezes off the sea. Tormund barely noticed the sumptuous surroundings as he crossed to the fire with Brienne in his arms and sat her gently in the chair that stood before the hearth. He kneeled at her side, eager to bring her anything she needed.

“What else can I do?” He asked her, still holding her hand.

She caressed his face, not caring that her father stood nearby, monitoring their every move. “Nothing.” She smiled affectionately. “I’m fine.”

“A bath, then, perhaps?” Lord Selwyn offered. Brienne and Tormund snapped their attentions back to him and away from each other.

“Oh yes. That would be nice.” Brienne looked thoughtfully at her father.

Selwyn stepped to the other side of Brienne’s chair and took her free hand. “I’ll have a few of the servant girls draw your tub and help you bathe.” He smiled at her.

“Thank you, Father.” Brienne answered, giving Selwyn a sweet smile. He raised her hand and kissed it warmly. His expression told her how glad he was to have her back.

The Evenstar strode to the door and stood there, waiting. In the time it had taken for him to cross the room, Brienne and Tormund had returned their gazes to each other where they remained fixed, him still kneeling at her side. Lord Selwyn cleared his throat loudly. He understood that this man he did not know, and his daughter had most probably been intimate and likely even shared a bath or two. However, for now, he preferred for Brienne to bathe privately, at least until he knew this Giantsbane better.

Tormund looked questioningly at Brienne unwilling to move. He had not left her side in over a week, and was fearful of doing so now. He felt as if somehow it was his sheer will keeping her healthy. He wanted to be the one to draw her bath, to set her carefully in the water, to bathe her softly, and tend to her still healing wound. It was as if being separated from her for even a short time would leave them both too vulnerable.

Brienne clasp his jaw gently between her hands, and gave him a brave smile. “Go ahead. You’ve tended to me nonstop for days.” She acknowledged, her eyes telling him how grateful she was. “You need some rest.” She told him with concern. “I’ll be alright.” She nodded.

“If you say so.” Tormund conceded, lowering his face and closing his eyes. He wanted to keep her presence with him.

Slowly he opened his eyes and rose to his feet. Parting reluctantly from Brienne, Tormund crossed the room to join her father at the door. Almost as if they had already been assigned the task, three servant girls rushed into the room with pails of water, and clean linens. Brienne smiled at Tormund as Selwyn closed the door. Tormund stood trying to glimpse her as long as he could.  
————————————  
“Follow me!” Selwyn commanded, diverting Tormund’s attentions. The Northman bristled. He was not used to being told what to do. The last time Tormund had taken an order he had soldiered at Mance Rayder’s side. He shoved down the annoyance that flared within him. This was Brienne’s father, after all. He would have to learn to give the man his accustomed authority. They walked in silence along the tapestry hung hallway, and turned down another smaller breezeway. At the end of the corridor, Selwyn’s solar was tucked near his personal quarters.

Selwyn swung the heavy double doors open, and stepped to a wide oak sideboard that ran nearly the length of one wall. He took two pewter steins and filled them from a large pitcher. Tormund hung back and watched, studying the Evenstar’s very move. He got the feeling that Lord Selwyn was trying to seem imposing and ominous, perhaps to warn him or size him up. Tormund couldn’t blame the old man. He himself dreaded the day his own daughters would bring home the unworthy wretches who will win their hearts. He supposed he would have to scare the shit out of the little runts. The difference was, he was not afraid. He had beaten down a dozen men for Brienne, he would fight her father, too. He only hoped he would not need to.

Selwyn turned and held out a stein to Tormund, who took it gladly with a nod of thanks. With Brienne being injured and needing his care it had been a while since he had enjoyed a drink, and thought it was fitting at this moment. He took a long gulp of the dark liquid it held, and was pleased to find that it was ale and not wine. Before he had fully downed his swallow, Lord Selwyn spoke.

“I hear you had my daughter North of the Wall.” Lord Selwyn announced judgingly as Tormund took another generous swill.

Tormund nearly choked on his ale. For once his usual bold and fearless swagger waivered. He studied Lord Selwyn, restlessly. Had the noble meant that he knew Tormund had enjoyed every inch of Brienne while they were in the North.

Selwyn gave him no time to wonder further. “How did my island girl fair up there?” He gave a fatherly smile thinking with pride of Brienne.

Tormund visibly relaxed. He hoped Lord Selwyn had not noticed. “Like she was born to it.” He complimented the woman he loved. His face too softened, thinking of Brienne among the cold wonders of the North. “It suited her.” Tormund acknowledged. Selwyn nodded proudly. He would expect nothing less of his valiant daughter.

Tormund continued, wanting Selwyn to know that he now considered Brienne a Northwoman. “She became as one of the Free Folk.” He puffed boastfully. “My daughters love her.” He also wanted it known that Brienne was part of his family.

“You’re a widower, then?” Selwyn understood, thinking he had found a common ground.

“No.” Tormund informed him, taking another drink of ale. “Their mothers and I were never married.” He described the arrangement as if it was the most natural and commonplace thing in the world.

Selwyn swelled to his full height and girth. This was it, he had found the real purpose behind the wildling’s interest in Brienne. He did his best to hold his anger in check, but was losing the battle. The nerve of this insolent savage.

“So!” Selwyn’s voice rose as he slammed his mug down on the sideboard. “You aim to finish what the Kingslayer started, and make my daughter your whore?”

The Evenstar shook with fury. “Perhaps she is already filled with another bastard for you.” He condemned.

Tormund’s hand went instinctively to his weapon. He did not care who this southern lord was, how dare the man scorn his girls. How dare he shame Brienne. “My daughters are not bastards. They wear my name.” His eyes burned with the need for revenge.

“Brienne is no whore. I’ll fight any man who says different.” He was so furious he had to keep his fists clenched, one around his sword hilt, so he would not pummel Selwyn to death.

“The Kingkiller wasn’t worthy to walk the same world as Brienne. I should have killed the cocksucker when I had the chance. Before he ever touched her.” Tormund lamented, his chest heaving with rage.

Selwyn stepped back and regarded Tormund. No one had ever had the audacity to speak to him that way. Men fell before him, and trembled at his anger. Tormund Giantsbane was the only man who had ever been courageous enough or crazy enough to challenge him. The fact that had claimed children born to him out of wedlock was proof of his honor. His protectiveness of Brienne confirmed how much he loved her. Finally a man worthy of Selwyn’s beloved daughter.

Lord Selwyn raised his eyebrow and stroked his beard, considering the situation.  
“You are in love with my daughter?” His question was more a statement of fact, than an inquiry.

Tormund did not budge. “Since the first moment I laid eyes on her.” He declared with conviction.

“And when was that?” Selwyn’s threatening posture relaxed.

“At Castle Black.” Tormund recounted. He sensed Selwyn was now warming to him. “A while before the battle with the dead.” He continued, and his eyes went soft remembering the first time he had seen Brienne. “She came riding into the yard, so tall and powerful.” He caught his breath. “She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.” Tormund could still picture the breathtaking site of her.

“Beautiful?” Selwyn questioned. Tormund glared at him. “Not many have found my sweet daughter so.” He shook his head regretfully.

Tormund nodded his understanding. His mind again saw the tears in Brienne’s eyes when she told him of how people had regarded her, and the pain it had caused her. “She’s been surrounded by fools most of her life.” He spoke bitterly.

“That she has.” Selwyn affirmed. He could scare believe that finally someone else saw how enchanting Brienne was. This Wildling had just assured his place in Brienne’s life as far as Selwyn was concerned. If Tormund had asked, the Evenstar would have given him her hand then and there.  
—————————————-  
Tormund spent the afternoon drinking with Brienne’s father. The mood between the two of them had lightened considerably, and he had to admit he quite liked the old man. Tormund had described the North, and his daughters whom Selwyn went from describing as bastards to admitting they sounded like lovely young women. Selwyn had shared stories of Brienne from her childhood, some of which Tormund was sure she would not want known. He would have to remember them.

Tormund felt no need to knock when he returned to Brienne’s chambers in the late afternoon, but entered quietly and found her napping in the luxurious cloud that was her bed. Feeling guilty for leaving her for much of the day, he studied her intently to make sure all was well. As he stood next to the mattress reveling in how lovely she looked, Brienne stirred. Bringing her hands up beside her face, she stretched as widely as her wound would allow, and smiled the most rested and contented smile Tormund had ever seen. After a moment Brienne’s eyes opened. Her smiled grew even wider when she saw him.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Tormund said, sitting down beside her. He took her hand and kissed it.

“You didn’t.” Brienne confessed. “I was just dozing, and thinking of you.” She grinned. He leaned down and tenderly placed his lips upon hers. They shared a sweet and passionate kiss.

When they parted, he stretched out beside her, and propped his head on one hand. She continued to hold onto his other hand, her fingers playing with his.

“Did you have a nice afternoon with my father?” Brienne asked with exaggerated innocence, knowing the conversation had most probably been more like an interrogation.

Tormund raised his brows and sneered at her playfully. “Yes. We had a good talk.” He shrugged considering all they had spoken of. “I think he likes me.” He smiled widely, leaning closer to her.

Brienne nodded in playful agreement. “How could he not?” She questioned as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They relaxed into a long delicious kiss.

When they parted, Tormund reclined back onto the pillows next to Brienne. Their hands clasped together as they laid next to each other. “He invited us to dinner.” Tormund informed her.

Brienne smiled joyfully. “Oh, that should be so nice.” She beamed. Tormund hoped she was correct.  
—————————————  
Tormund and Brienne lounged together in her chambers until the sun went down. The light through the large windows grew gradually soft, and the air began to cool. “Could you help me dress?” Brienne smiled sweetly at Tormund, trying to sit up a little.

“It would be my pleasure.” Tormund teased as he nibbled her neck. Brienne laughed openly at the tickling sensation.

He rose from the bed, and bowed reverently. “Command me, My Lady.” He begged, sweeping his arms wide.

Brienne giggled and played along. “The wardrobe, over there.” She pointed lazily at a tall heavy piece of furniture across the room. Tormund marched over to the large paneled doors on the front and threw them open, revealing a number of long gowns. He smirked seductively at Brienne, imagining her in them.

“I only wear these when I’m here.” Brienne blushed. “My father likes to dress me up.” She shook her head amused. “I’m his only child. I humor him.” She almost felt the need to apologize.

“You are a very sweet daughter.” Tormund cooed at her.

“Why, thank you.” Brienne grinned and nestled her head against her shoulders, allowing his compliment to wash over her. “Could you pull that one out for me?” She asked charmingly.

Tormund reached in and pulled out a deep red dress. He held it up for Brienne’s inspection. She thought for a moment, and wrinkled her nose. “Mmmm. No. Too dramatic.” Tormund threw it over his shoulder. Brienne’s laugh was the loveliest sound he had ever heard.

He reached in and grabbed another. “This one?” He asked as if it was the most important decision in the world. Brienne again rejected the option. It too, went sailing over his shoulder. Tormund took hold of a soft blue gown, and brought it out of the chest for Brienne’s inspection.

“Perfect!” She squealed.”

He brought the garment to the bed and laid it out. Brienne threw back the blankets, revealing the thin shift the servants had dressed her in after her bath. It skimmed her body in all the right places. He felt his body begin to react to her. Perhaps this dressing her request had not been such a good idea. He would need to have her soon.

Brienne managed to perch herself on the edge of the bed. Looking up at him, she understood his desire. A wonderful thought came to her mind and her smile turned mischievous. She softly patted the mattress beside her. “Sit down.” She whispered, the familiar wetness forming between her legs at the anticipation of what she was planning. He complied without question. She turned herself to face him, in order to reach as far as she could, careful not to aggravate her wound. Her hands lightly pulled his tunic up and over his head. She let it fall on the bed behind them.

She brought her lips to his neck and nuzzled into his beard, her tongue and teeth nipping playfully. He began to protest, knowing she was still to week to fully make love. She stopped him with a finger on his lips. “Shhhh.” She warned. “Don’t worry.” She eased.

Brienne slowly untied the waistband that held her shift closed, and moved the fabric over her shoulders exposing her firm, perfect breasts to Tormund. Moving her face closer, she licked his lips and then pressed her own to his mouth. Finding more of him to nibble, she forced his mouth open and explored it with her tongue. He groaned from deep in his throat, sweeping his hand through her hair and cradled her head in his hand. He thrilled at the soft sweetness of her tongue as it played against his. His free hand brushed the unmarred side of her ribcage. Moving up to her breasts, he squeezed and worked them briskly, kneading the flesh and pinching her nipples between his expert fingers. She moaned lustfully in response to his touch.

Pulling away, Brienne left Tormund wanting more, but she intended to watch him as she pleasured him. She drew one hand down his ribs and rested it at his waist to support herself. She slowly burrowed her other hand down the front of his britches. Pulling the fabric back, she exposed his needful waiting hardness. The site of his full glory frustrated her. How she longed to feel him inside her. Brienne decided to take her resentment out on Tormund. She did not think he would mind. Grabbing his shoulders she pulled him forcefully to her, and met his lips with a vengeance. She made him wait for a moment, her hand resting near the base of his tall erect shaft. His breath grew shallow in anticipation. Parting from his lips, she stared at him once more, her eyes drowsy with passion. Slowly, softly, she began to play with him. Her finger closed around him almost imperceptibly, and she squeezed softly as she began to move her hand gently up and down him, tightening and releasing as she went. His body shuddered at the feel of her skin against him. She stared into his eyes. His pupils were wide with excitement. He bent his head back in sheer ecstasy from the arousal as she worked him.

Tormund brought his lips once more to hers and gave her the only gratification he knew would not harm her in her weakened condition. He brushed his mouth teasingly against hers and then backed away, smiling wickedly at her need. Once more he moved in, this time catching her bottom lip in his teeth, and holding her there. Brienne smiled and laughed breathily at his teasing. Releasing her, he did not give her time to move, but thrust his tongue into her mouth. She inhaled sharply, and then exhaled a hot breath slowly against his skin, groaning in delight.

All the while Brienne continued to work him. He grew even harder as she sped up her repeated tugging. She became more forceful with her movements, sliding past the tip and then slamming her fist down toward the base, and waiting there a split second pulling. Tormund’s breathing quickened and his moaning grew louder as she began to bring him to his climax. She tightened her grasp on him, and felt his body shudder. He pulled her gently toward him, his hands clenching her waist and hips. His face dropped against hers and he closed his eyes. Brienne continued her thrusting, tightening around him. The shallowness of her own breath matched his as she brought him to the height of his passion. He grunted vigorously, his body spasming as his seed exploded from his swollen tip and ran down her fingers. He collapsed against her uninjured side gasping for air.

“Gods, woman!” Tormund choked. “Even I didn’t know how much I needed that.” He smiled. He had been so intent on caring for her, he had ignored all but the necessities for himself.

“I thought you could use some release.” Brienne grinned as she kissed his shoulder, happy she could please him. He caught her face in his hands and kissed her sweet lips, still panting. She melted into him.

“Are you alright?” He asked worried.

“I’m perfectly fine.” She smiled. “You?” She inquired teasingly.

“Oh Gods, Yes!” He declared as he nuzzled her neck. “Couldn’t be better.” He rested against her for another moment.

Brienne wiped her hand, slippery and full with the evidence of his passion for her, onto the skirt of her shift.

“Aren’t you afraid those servant girls will see that?” He pretended to be shocked.

“No!” Brienne scoffed. “I hope they do.” She pouted indignantly. “You should have heard them giggling and whispering that they fancied you. As if you couldn’t possibly be with me.” She jutted out her jaw angrily.

Tormund crooked his head to the side and raised his eyebrow conceitedly. “Really?” He gave Brienne a self-satisfied smile. “Maybe I should see if they’ll draw me a bath.” He teased.

Brienne gasped and looked at him, acting shocked he would consider such a thing. “Don’t you dare.” She ran her arms around his waist. “This is all mine.” She declared, pulling him to her still bare breasts and kissing him sweetly.

“Yes, it is.” He swore, returning her affection with loving warmth. “Don’t worry. I’m all yours. Always!” He grinned, and was rewarded with a wide smile from her. He kissed her temple to accentuate his promise, and held her tight a moment longer.

She sat back and sighed, hating letting him go. “Help me dress?” She requested with a cooing sweetness.

Tucking himself back into his clothing, Tormund stood and took Brienne’s hands in his. He carefully helped her to her feet, as her shift fell to the floor. Her long, lean body was fully exposed to him. He shook his head and laughed to himself. Just a little over a year ago, after the battle at Winterfell, he thought he would never see her again. Now here she was...his.

“How did I get so lucky?” He whispered to himself. Brienne rolled her eyes in jest, but enjoyed the compliment.

Tormund reached down and carefully picked up the gown Brienne had chosen from the bed. It felt like water in his hands. He gathered the soft fabric between his fingers and softly lifted the garment over Brienne’s head. It floated down around her and fell over her frame like the softest snowfall. The gown skimmed her hips and reached to the floor. She lightly tied the wide sash of fabric at her waistline, and spun around for his review, uncomfortable in such finery.

“How do I look?” She asked biting her lower lip, her expression unsure.

She was breathtaking. All he could do was stare, and picture her in the role of a proper Westeros lady. A lovely little fantasy, for a moment. Then his mind went back to Brienne shining in her armor, riding commandingly into Castle Black. He felt again the numbness in his hands, and how his legs went weak when he watched her. He thought about the times they had shared, and the ordeal they had just been through as she lay wounded. Then he realized in what he preferred her, Free Folk fur. He took her hands and brought them to his lips. “

“You look like you ought to be with someone a Hells of a lot better than me.” He told her humbly.

Brienne reached out and caressed his jaw. “There is no one better than you.” she affirmed. They shared one more kiss before leaving her chamber arm in arm, and walking slowly to the salon where Lord Selwyn dined. Tormund watched guardedly over her every step, ready to gather her in his arms at any moment.  
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By the time they reached the salon where they would take dinner with Lord Selwyn, Tormund could already tell that Brienne was tiring. Her legs were shaky as she walked, and she grasped onto his arms tighter, now with both hands. The short journey through the halls of Evenfall had exerted her energy more than he had thought it might. He was worried and eager to have her sitting. Selwyn stood as they entered the room, and held out his arms for Brienne. As they approached Tormund released Brienne to her father’s protective embrace, the only other person in the world he would trust with her.

Selwyn wrapped his arms around Brienne and held her tenderly. The relief at having her once more safe at Evenfall showed unmistakably on his face. The highborn lord laid a kiss in his daughter’s hair and lingered there for a moment, his arms believing she was a little girl again. When he pulled away there were tears in his eyes at having nearly lost her. If she had asked him for the world, he would have stopped at nothing to give it to her. Tormund stood back giving father and daughter their time, happy that Brienne had been raised with such love.

“And how was your rest this afternoon, my dear?” Selwyn asked Brienne smiling. “Peaceful, I trust.” He patted her cheek.

Brienne nodded. “Yes, very much.” She confirmed. “It was nice to be back in my own bed for awhile.” She did not tell him that her bed was far north of The Wall, and that she shared it with Tormund.

As if sensing her thoughts, Selwyn turned his attention to Tormund, his arm still surrounding Brienne. “ Again, you have my eternal gratitude for seeing my daughter safely to Evenfall.” He acknowledged.

“The smile on her face is all the thanks I need.” Tormund grinned, his gaze locked on Brienne. She favored him with a loving smile, that lingered over him.

Lord Selwyn sat Brienne softly into the chair to the left of him, and motioned for Tormund to take the seat to his right. The Evenstar settled himself at the head of the table. He snapped his fingers at the servants who waited for commands near the doorway. The young men hurried to bring three large covered platters from the sturdy buffet to the table. “I took the liberty of asking the cooks to prepare Brienne’s favorite.” Selwyn beamed at her, hoping she was pleased.

“Oh father.” Brienne grinned. “I have not had lobster in years.” She laughed, touched by his thoughtfulness. The servants sat the trays on the table in front of each of them, and lifted the lids to reveal three gigantic bright red insect-looking creatures that stared at them with dead eyes from the plates. Brienne stifled a giggle as Tormund looked down at dinner in disbelief. She could almost see his stomach turn.

“Never had shellfish before?” Selwyn asked with a hearty laugh. He had already grabbed his portion and pulled it apart exposing the succulent meat inside. He tore off a large piece, dipped in a bowl of yellow liquid and downed it with a gulp, barely chewing.

“Can’t say as I have.” Tormund shook his head, lifting the creature from the plate and studying it.

Brienne smiled at Tormund thoughtfully. “It’s a delicacy here on Tarth.”

She found the confused look on his face adorable, but she did not want him to feel awkward. “Here.” She showed him. “You take it like this, and tear off a piece.” Tormund followed her direction as she broke a claw from her boiled crustacean with a loud cracking sound, and used to her fingers to twist off a bit of bright white flesh.

“Then dig out the meat and dip it in the melted butter.” She smiled, enjoying her first taste in a long while.

Tormund did as he was shown, and found the meal was quite to his liking. He flashed his bright eyes at Brienne as he chewed a large mouthful of lobster, trails of the butter streaming down his beard. She laughed out loud watching him. When Brienne popped another bite between her teeth, a tiny drop of butter lingered at the corner of her mouth. Tormund stared lustfully at her, not caring if her father read the desire on his face, and longed to lick the droplet from her lips.

Selwyn did notice. As the three spent a nice evening talking and trading stories he saw the unspoken want that hung heavy between Brienne and the Wildling. He noticed their private jests, their easy ways with each other, and their desirous looks. His heart was overjoyed that his daughter had found a man who truly saw her, and loved her. He was elated that finally, Brienne had let someone into her lonely world. He vowed that his daughter and her Northman would leave his island as husband and wife.  
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After the meal, Selwyn could see that Brienne was tiring. However, he had not had a chance to speak to her when she arrived, and he needed to discuss matters with Brienne. “I have greatly enjoyed our dinner, but if you do not mind I must speak with my daughter, privately.” He appealed to Tormund.

Tormund looked to Brienne for his answer. If she needed him, Lord Selwyn would have to wait. She smiled at him, touched by his concern. “It’s alright.” Brienne told him, although she was a bit nervous as to what her father might have to say to her.

“I will see to it she returns to her rooms unharmed.” Selwyn grinned clamping Tormund on the shoulder. He moved the Wildling toward the door where the same servant girls who had earlier seen to Brienne’s bath waited. “Our girls will see you to your chambers.”

The young women cast their eyes to the ground and could not look at either Tormund or Brienne. Brienne smiled with self-satisfaction. They had apparently found her soiled shift, and their demeanor told her the message she sent, to stay away from Tormund, had been received loud and clear. Tormund nodded a thanks to Selwyn for dinner, and looked over his shoulder to check Brienne once more as he left the room.

Lord Selwyn held his hand out to his daughter and gave her a loving smile. She accepted, and he aided her gently in standing. Taking her arm, he led her to a small settee by the roaring fire in the hearth and lowered her unto the cushions.

“Wine?” Selwyn offered. Brienne was unable to read his tone, or his expression.

Brienne nodded. “Yes, please.” She felt she might need the assistance of alcohol to face this discussion. She had been dreading talking to her father about the events that had brought her to Evenfall. She knew Jaime Lannister would somehow find his way into the conversation.

Selwyn decided to start slow. He filled two goblets with wine, and sat beside Brienne, handing one to her. “How are you feeling?” He inquired, genuinely concerned for her well being.

“A little better every day.” Brienne smiled nervously as she took a sip of wine. She stood the cup on the table next to her, but kept it close.

Selwyn took her hand, and looked at her earnestly. “I am very glad to hear that.” He smiled. “When I got word that you had been wounded, I cannot tell what went through...my...mind.” Selwyn trailed off, tears coming to his eyes. He took Brienne’s hand and held it tight for a moment.

“Father.” Brienne whispered understandingly. She moved her hand to hold his cheek, and felt it wet with tears. “Oh, please don’t cry.”

He squeezed her fingers, and gave a brave laugh. “I cannot help it.” He looked into her eyes. “I gave you my blessing to follow your dreams and live your own life. I agreed to allow you to enter the dangerous world of battle, and have been proud of everything you have done.” Selwyn closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. “ But you are my only child. I cannot bear the thought of losing you.” He kissed her hand sweetly.

For the first time, Brienne realized how great a sacrifice her father had made in allowing her to train, and to leave their home to enter the service of others. It made her heart ache for him. She wanted to ease his mind.

“I have always been grateful that you indulged my wishes. I know it was hard for you, and I have never taken that for granted.” Brienne said solemnly. “I have seen many battles, and I have always felt your love and strength beside me, bolstering me.” She declared, her tears mirroring those of her father.

Brienne continued, remembering someone else’s strength that had seen her through the fight of her life. “Even as I lay bleeding on that beach, I knew I would be alright.” She told Selwyn.

“How could you be certain of such a thing?” He needed to know.

Brienne’s eyes grew distant and dreamy. Her already pleasant smile, softened even more. “Because Tormund was with me.” She saw his dear face so clearly in her mind that she could almost reach out and touch him.

Lord Selwyn thought of how shocked he was to see his daughter riding up to Evenfall in the arms of a savage Northman. He had wanted to order the Wildling to be removed from the grounds. Then Selwyn had realized how deeply in love the man was with his daughter. He saw that same love now shining in Brienne’s eyes for Tormund Giantsbane. This was all he had ever wanted for her, to be happy and to be loved.

“You love him, this Wildling?” Selwyn confirmed.

“With all of my heart.” Brienne’s smile grew wide. She ached for Tormund and wished she were with him now.

Brienne looked seriously at her father. “And the term is Free Folk.” She told him. “Wildling is derogatory slang created by people in the south to inaccurately describe an entire culture they had no wish to understand.”

“A culture to which you now belong?” Selwyn questioned.

Brienne smiled, imagining how comfortable and welcomed she had felt in the North. “Yes.” She affirmed proudly.

“And, marriage?” Selwyn pushed. “Have you discussed that?” He eyed her uncomfortably.

Brienne grinned, understanding. “In time, Father. All in good time.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Alright.” He acquiesced, “Just be aware that I expect any grandchildren you may present me to be legitimate.” He warned.

“Father!” Brienne announced, shocked. “You’re getting a little ahead of yourself.” She laughed.

“Am I?” He cast a judging eye over her. He was well aware that his daughter and her lover had been together in her chambers earlier that afternoon. He was certain it was not the first time. Brienne felt the blush come to her cheeks. Suddenly she felt like a child who had been caught in a dalliance.

“Do not worry, my dear.” Selwyn tried to ease her embarrassment. “You are a grown woman. One who has spent her life in the company of men. I do not delude myself as to your experiences.” Again she blushed. “I simply want to make certain that this Tormund Giantsbane is the one for you, and that he loves you.” Selwyn reassured her.

“Father.” Brienne regarded him, but her mind was far away. “He beat down more than a dozen men for the right to me.” She said proudly.

“The right to you?” Lord Selwyn was shocked. “What kind of place did he take you to?” He demanded.

Brienne shook her head to calm his fears. “It wasn’t like that.” She smiled. “I am perfectly safe there.”

She took his face in her hands. “Oh, Father.” Brienne smiled. “He loves me. He loves me for what I am, not in spite of it.” Lord Selwyn could see the depth of emotion and faith Brienne had for Giantsbane shining in her bright eyes, and was sure they belonged together.

Selwyn did not wish to tarnish the moment, but he had to know of the other man to which Brienne had given more than her heart. “And what of this Kingslayer, I have heard about?”

Brienne cast her eyes down. Her father knew. He knew what she had done, what she had given up. It was a long moment before she find her voice. “He was a mistake.” She lamented. “And I was a fool.” She could not force herself to look her father in the eye.

It was Selwyn’s turn to cast his eyes down. “No, my dear. You are not a fool.” He corrected. “Too trusting at times, perhaps.” A faint smile crossed his face thinking about how kind and caring his daughter was. Then he took her chin in his gentle grasp and lifted her gaze. “But not a fool, never.”

Brienne eye’s searched her father’s face as he continued. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I have ever known.” He complimented. “Stronger people than you have fallen victim another’s falsehood, especially when it is presented under the guise of love.” He comforted her. “You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Lord Selwyn regarded her with loving pride.

Relief washed over Brienne at her father’s words. He did not think less of her, and he understood. Selwyn held Brienne’s face in his hands. “I am certain that in whatever Hell Jamie Lannister has landed, he will spend eternity knowing exactly what he gave up.” He leaned forward and kiss Brienne’s forehead.

Lord Selwyn sat back and lovingly regarded his daughter. Large tears fell from Brienne’s eyes as she watched him. “Thank you father.” She smiled.

“All I want is your happiness.” He told her.

Brienne’s thoughts went to Tormund and the memories they had already made. Her smile grew and brightened the entire room. “I have found it.” She beamed at her father.  
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Later that evening Lord Selwyn saw Brienne back to her chambers. He was so happy to have her at Evenfall, and so jubilant over her return to health that he nearly carried her. He settled her onto her bed, and made sure a fresh shift was laid out for her at the foot of her mattress. Brienne assured him that she needed no further assistance, and he bid her goodnight. Selwyn left her chambers feeling quite sure that she would not be alone for long. He was right.

Brienne relaxed, leaning back on her palms and waited. No sooner had Lord Selwyn left, than Tormund came sliding stealthily through her door. Her face brightened when she saw him. She had missed him, and needed him near her. When she saw the dismayed expression on his face, her’s dropped to match.

“What’s wrong?” Brienne asked, troubled.

Tormund bounded across the room to reach her. He knelt in front of her and rested his head in her lap, his arms encircling her waist. Unable to bend down to embrace him, due to her wound, Brienne lovingly rested her hands on his back. Holding him for a moment, she slipped her fingers under his cheeks and lifted his face to look at her.

“Tell me.” She begged,

“That room they gave me.” Tormund explained.

Brienne found his frustration adorable. She hid her amusement and played along. “Is it too small?” She teased.

He shook his head. “Half our village could fit in there.” Tormund scoffed.

“Too cold?” Brienne played with him again.

Tormund rolled his eyes. “I was born in the cold.” He grew more irritated.

She could no longer stand his distress. “What then, My Love?” Brienne looked at him sympathetically.

“It’s half way down the hall from you.” Tormund lamented. “I cannot be that far from you.” He informed her.

“Oh.” Brienne said, relieved. “Is that all?” She shrugged.

“Is that all?” He echoed, perching urgently on the mattress beside her. His voice growing louder. He could not believe Brienne was not equally as upset at the situation.

Brienne held his face to hers, delighting in the closeness of him and how near he wanted to be to her. “You don’t have to stay there.” She reminded him.

Tormund thought for a moment. Then he began to smile, his eyes widening at the thought. “No. I don’t.” He grinned up at her.

Brienne shook her head to emphasize his thought. “No. Just do what you did tonight.” She laughed.

“Yeah!” He nodded, picturing it.

“You didn’t think I was going to spend every night here without you, did you?” Brienne questioned him.

Tormund howled with happiness, as Brienne laughed. He helped her change into her shift, and eased her back onto the pillows. Removing his own clothes, Tormund crawled into bed beside her. They both wanted desperately to celebrate their passion, but her injuries still thwarted them. Instead he cloaked her in his protective arms and held her through the night. Softly, he whispered the things he wanted to do to Brienne in her ear, as they were lulled to sleep by the sounds of the surf through the open windows.  
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The Outlander awoke from the same dream he had every night. He was spurring his horse back to her. Back to the love he had left. Not the evil wicked queen, but to the sweet warm brave woman he had knighted. He had been a fool to ever have left her. The image of her stricken face as she begged him not to go haunted his every waking moment. He had only the vision of mending his gravest mistake to comforted his sleep.

Each morning he would wake, and for the essence of a moment he could make himself believe he had never left, and that he still lay beside her in the darkness. He could feel the warmth of the her skin, and hear the music of her sighs as she slept. Each day he found he was only allowed to enjoy his imaginings for so short a time until he would awaken and find himself unbearably far from her. He wondered if she ever thought of him. Did she have the same dream when she awoke many hours later in the West? It was as if he had landed in some unknown Hell, this miserable eastern crossroads to which his brother had sent him to heal. He reminded himself that any place was Hell without her.

He swore that when he was well, he would go back. He would find her. He would fall upon the ground before her, and beg her to give him the chance he had taken from them. He vowed she would be his again. If it took his entire life, he would find a way to win her back.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Tarth, Brienne and Tormund take the first steps of their life together, but whispers in the shadowed corners of a far off land could threaten their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *There is also a tiny bit of Sansan news in this chapter.

Evenfall towered some distance over the beaches of Tarth. At this time of the morning the sun rising over the tall mountain peaks danced on the sapphire waves. The shining play of water and ray created a glorious display of light that painted swirling images on the ceiling of Brienne’s chamber. She lay back on the pillows of her overstuffed bed watching the shimmering patterns glow and change. Her face was the picture of pure ecstasy as Tormund’s beard brushed her inner thigh. Gods, she loved it when he did this to her. His mouth played her body like an finely tuned instrument. Every movement of his tongue brought forth a harmony of music from her. A rapid flicking produced from her lungs a breathy gasp. A soft swirl caused a low moan to reverberate in her throat. While a hard thrust elicited a high pitched wail from deep within her. This morning he was hitting all the right notes.

Suddenly she drew in her breath and flung her head back. “That’s it!” She nearly screamed. “There!” Brienne instructed through her loud, pleasured sighs. Her hands dug into the blanket that lay tossed aside surrounding her. Her fists grasping the sheets like the reigns of her horse, trying to drive herself closer to him, and his tongue deeper inside her.

Tormund relented a bit in his quest to find the spot that would drive Brienne mad. “You like that?” He teased, raising his head from between her legs to gaze at her with an exaggerated quizzical expression, his face and beard wet from her.

She looked down at his smile, framed by the “v” of her widespread, upbent legs. Brienne’s entire body shuttered at the interruption of the euphoria she was enjoying, her long lean torso heaving with breathlessness. “Don’t Stop!” She screamed, not caring who heard beyond her chamber door.

“Yeah?” He nodded, savoring his game and the taste of her as he licked his lips.

“Oh please!” Brienne begged. “Don’t stop!” Sitting up, she reached out and ran her fingers through Tormund’s tousled hair. Her fingers tightened over the top of his head, and she shoved his face back down into her sensitive wanting curves.

“Mmmmm.” Tormund groaned satisfyingly, returning his full attention to working her to her climax. Brienne let her body fall back to the bed, and relax into the sharp frantic movements of his mouth.

Her voice grew even louder as she neared her orgasm, the breath exploding from her lungs as loud sensual cries. Tormund ran his hands over her buttocks, and up along her thighs, squeezing forcefully as he went. Abruptly, he forced her legs down toward the mattress, opening her even wider to him. She nearly screamed as his tongue plunged deeper into her and retreated. He repeated his probing of her until she could barely breathe. The sound of her passion, the feel of her soft luscious skin, and the warm sweetness of her in his mouth made his own body hard and needful. Lost in his pleasuring of her, he had tried to focus solely on Brienne’s need. However, she was so damned perfect that he could not hold his own longing at bay. He reached beneath himself and began to work his own shaft with one hand as his other arm moved upward through her legs and against her stomach. She leaned upward on her elbows allowing him the access he needed. He vigorously clasped her breast. He pulled, squeezed, and manipulated her skin to his desires as his own stroking of himself grew stronger.

Brienne’s back arched, and her shouting hastened as she felt herself nearing her climax. Tormund felt the familiar shuttering within her that told him she was almost there. He too, was reaching his height. Her muscles tensed, and she groaned as her body let loose the fervor he created in her. Her beautiful waterfall cascaded over him, and he lapped at it, drinking her in like the sweetest wine. At the same time, he swelled and moaned, releasing himself on the wrinkled sheets.

Exhausted, he crawled up the bed to lay beside her. She struggled to catch her breath and stop her body from shaking as she rolled onto her side and draped her leg over him. He gathered her in his arms and held her tightly to him. Their breathy panting mingled together as their vigorous passions eased into the smoldering security of their love.

They did not speak. There was no need. Their bodies had just declared everything there was to say. Instead, they lay clinging to each other in the early morning light. Tormund rose slightly and pulled the blankets around them so Brienne would not become chilled. She nestled closer to him as he settled back to her. The ocean breezes, warmed by the rising sun, filled the chamber and wrapped them in contentment as they lay together protected amidst their dream.

They had been on Tarth for weeks, or it could have a month or more. They had lost track of all time. Brienne recovered quickly under Tormund’s vigilant care, until she had finally been restored to full health. So far from their responsibilities and worries it was easy to lose themselves in their happiness. Here, there was no Westeros, no North, no Lannisters, no Starks, no oaths, and no duty. There was only the warm waves in which they swam naked, the sun soaked mountain meadows where they played, and the bright dazzling stars under which they made love. Here there was nothing but them.

  
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Later that same day, in the warm afternoon sunshine, Lord Selwyn stood on the battlements of Evenfall Hall watching Brienne and Tormund walking together, hand in hand, along the beach far below. His heart was happy to see their joy, but his mind was racing with other thoughts. He had heard his daughter’s impassioned cries earlier that morning, and was amused at the way she and Giantsbane continued to keep up their facade of purity. Each night Tormund sneaked into Brienne’s chambers, where the sounds from within told the entire castle of the passionate play happening between the two of them. Somehow the Wildling would manage to secret himself back to his own quarters each morning, from which he would emerge with an animated show to make anyone who saw him think he had been there all night. No one believed it. At least the man was concerned about the image of propriety, and for Brienne’s honor. That was far more than he had heard about the way Ser Jaime Lannister has treated his daughter. Lord Selwyn had been told of what had happened at Winterfell between Brienne and the Kingslayer. He was glad that Brienne had found love with a decent man.

Lord Selwyn had come to be quite fond of Tormund Giantsbane. The man had a keen wit, and an intense sense of duty. From their conversations he could tell that Tormund was fiercely proud and protective of his family. The daughters he had left behind in the North were obviously his pride and joy. Selwyn could most definitely relate to that. He soon discovered, when voicing a negative thought about Jon Snow, that Tormund was also ferociously loyal and defensive of his friends. Most of the time, he was happy and jovial, and Selwyn enjoyed his company. He was exactly the kind of man he wanted for Brienne.

Lord Selwyn was overjoyed that Tormund had brought Brienne back to Tarth to recover from her wounds. He had loved the time he had been able to spend with her. The Evenstar was pleased to have provided his daughter and the man she loved with a much needed escape from fighting, and politics, and battle. He knew it did them both good. However, as he gazed down at the tiny slip of parchment held in his fingers, he wondered how long their interlude would last.  
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That evening Brienne and Tormund dined with Lord Selwyn in his salon as they had many times during their weeks on Tarth. As always the food was delicious, the atmosphere pleasant, and the conversation cheerful. The Evenstar regarded his daughter and her lover throughout the lighthearted exchange over their meal. He knew he needed to press the issue that had been weighing on his mind all day. He needed to force both of them to think about what neither wanted to admit.

During a lull in their talking and laughter, just as dessert was being served Lord Selwyn removed the strip of parchment from his pocket. It was marked for Brienne and he had not opened the folded paper. He was nervous about what could be written on the tiny scroll. He wondered what dangers could pose a threat to his child and her happiness this time.

The Evanstar cleared his throat, and handed the paper to Brienne. “This arrived for you today.” He announced. “From Winterfell.” He said almost solemnly, his eyes searching Brienne’s for the weight of trepidation, and finding it. He saw Tormund, too, bristle across the table.

Brienne stared at the paper her father held out to her. The possible magnitude of the situation falling upon her shoulders like a lead weight. She had truly been living a dream, a beautiful dream, with Tormund. It was as if they had left everything behind. They had lost themselves in the life they wanted together. She felt her stomach turn, and fought to keep down the food she had just eaten. In her mind, she traveled the great distance to Winterfell. Brienne recalled how happy and hopeful Sansa had been. The Queen in the North newly married to her Shield, Sandor Clegane and expecting their first child, had beamed with confidence and faith as she tasked Brienne to represent her to the Houses in the North. Brienne quickly calculated in her mind the time she had been gone from her duties. The guilt at having left the Starks with the Queen in such a vulnerable state for so long was overwhelming. Brienne could scarcely draw breath when she thought of the Battle at Eastwatch occurring at such a time for the Queen, when she should have been focused solely in the impending birth of her child. Brienne knew Clegane would allow nothing to harm Sansa, not even worry. Still shame and regret engulfed her. Her oath. How could she have forgotten the oath she had sworn to the Starks? She had shoved all thought of it so far from her mind that it barely seemed real any longer. She had used the excuse of her recovery to justify her neglect.

In her mind Brienne’s memory again saw Queen Sansa bidding her good luck on her journey to unify the North with Tormund. Brienne raised her eyes to behold Tormund. Their blue depths teared as she gazed at his worried expression. He looked at her with such love and concern that her remorse made her look away. Suddenly, a new regret pained her. Brienne thought of his daughters, Munda and Anya. He had been so long away from them. She had sworn she would never come between them. Now she felt that she had. She was ashamed that it was for her he had left those who depended on him, and that she had not realized it until now. The last time Brienne had allowed herself to be so careless had been with Jaime, and she had ended up heartbroken. It felt to her now that she was never to be allowed even a moment of pleasure to herself. Perhaps it was a thing she could not afford.

Brienne realized she had been staring at the parchment her father had laid in her hand. She was too fearful to open it, she dreaded too much what it might contain. It could be avoided no longer, however. She had to face reality. Brienne glanced at Tormund for strength and swallowed hard. With trembling fingers, she straightened the rolled paper. Her eyes stared heavily at the words, reading slowly and carefully. A faint relieved smile washed over her face for a moment, but was again replaced with an anxious frown.

Without looking up she relayed the contents of the message to the others. “Queen Sansa has given birth to an heir. A daughter. They are both well.” She reported.

Tormund howled with laughter. “A girl for his first!” He roared. “I’ll bet that old dog, Clegane is as jumpy as a cat.” He chided remembering how he was when his daughters were born. “I’d pay good coin to see that.” He snickered. Lord Selwyn chuckled in agreement, recalling a memeory of his own.

Brienne continued to stare at the note. “I am just glad that the Queen and her babe are alright.” She said softly without looking up.

“Of course.” Lord Selwyn composed himself. He took his stein of ale, and lifting it high, toasted their health. “To the Queen in the North and her heir. Happiness and Long Life to them both!” He cheered.

Brienne and Tormund joined him, their steins meeting his with a loud clank. “Happiness and Long Life.” They echoed, drinking to the Stark heir.

Selwyn saw the opportunity to further his plan of attack. “I assume that means they will soon be in need of you.” He said to Brienne, not wanting to cause her pain but needing her to think clearly about her own future. He wanted for her the joy which the man seated across the table from her could offer.

Brienne settled her heavy cup back down onto the table. Her face grew stricken. She could not remove her pained gaze from Tormund as her eyes once more held grieving tears. All she could imagine was her duty taking her away from him, and it was more than she could bear. “I suppose it does...” She answered her father dryly, her voice barely audible at the end.

At that Brienne could hold herself in check no longer. “Would you excuse me, please?” She begged, throwing her linen napkin onto her plate as she stood, her voice choking back her weeping. The men had no time to stand in response, as she raced from the room.

Tormund sat dumbfounded. He was unsure why Brienne had gotten so upset. It never occurred to him that they would forced apart for any reason. He would not allow that. He looked questioningly at Lord Selwyn.

“Well!” The Evenstar bellowed. “Don’t just sit there. Go after her!” He motioned toward the door. Tormund jumped up and was out the door, on Brienne’s trail, before Lord Selwyn had the chance to roll his eyes.  
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Tormund bounded down the wide passage in search of Brienne. He knew he was only a few seconds behind her, but by the time he had left Lord Selwyn’s salon she was nowhere to be seen. His mind raced, trying to understand why she had been so upset. The news from Winterfell had been happy. She seemed to think that receiving word from the Starks would mean some kind of problem. However, to him it changed nothing. The worst part was now. He knew that she was somewhere close, hurting and in pain, but he could not find her. Turning down yet another large hallway and with no sign of her, Tormund quickened his frantic pace.

Out of places to search, he stood craning his neck in frenzied agitation trying to catch sight of her. That was when he heard a sorrowful whimper at the end of the hall. His feet moved quickly in that direction before his mind had even the time to wonder if it was her. Reaching the edge of the stone floor, he slowed his run as the corridor opened onto a small balcony. His heart calmed with relief when he saw Brienne standing by the railing overlooking the ocean below.

Tormund approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her. As he drew near he could hear her anguished sobs and his heart was equally grieved. “Brienne.” He spoke to her in a near whisper.

She sniffed, and turned to him. The tears on her cheeks glistened in the moonlight. The mournful look on her face devastated him. “What shall I do?” She begged him.

He stepped closer, and softly took hold of her hands. His touch calmed her, but there was still a look of hopelessness in her eyes. “About what?” He pleaded, wanting desperately to help her.

Brienne shook her head. “Not what.” She corrected. “When?” Her eyes searched his in. desperation. 

Tormund shook his head. She was not making sense. “I don’t understand?” He told her apologetically.

Brienne looked down for a moment, catching her breath in shuttering gasps. “What shall I do when we are parted by a thousand miles?” She collapsed, crying against his neck.

He enfolded her in his arms, trying to absorb the pain into himself and away from her. He held onto her while she stood shaking against him. After a long moment he slipped his hand under her cheek, and raised her head to look at him. “Where is this coming from?” He implored. “Nothing is going to take you from me.” He assured her.

Brienne was grateful for the hope he was doing his best to give her. She knew, however, that the choice was not theirs to make. “Father is right.” She sighed. “I will have to return to my duties soon.” She lamented.

“It seems to me you’ve done your duty.” Tormund acknowledged, thinking bitterly of her near death in the line of that obligation.

“I swore an oath.” She reminded him. “My life belongs to others. I must put their needs ahead of my own.” She said, the thought of being so far from him causing her tears to begin anew.

“Your life is your own, to do with as you wish.” As a Free Man, the thought of owing such a debt to others was completely foreign to him. He hoped what she wished was to remain with him. Brienne’s compassionate gaze told him she understood.

“I cannot ignore what I have pledged.” Brienne squeezed his fingers. “Not even ‘because I love you,’ can be an adequate reason for neglecting my responsibility.” She told him warmly.

Tormund held her tighter. He needed her to believe that they would have the life together of which they both dreamed. “You swore your sword to the Starks. You are not their slave.” He said, attempting to quiet her fears. “They don’t expect that of you.”

“I swore to give my life for them.” She recalled. “That means it is no longer mine.” Her face fell as her eyes trailed to the ground. “It is no longer mine to give to you.” She brought up her hand lovingly to his jaw. “No matter how much I want to.” For the first time, she wished she had never made that oath the Lady Catelyn.

As if he were reading her mind, Tormund chose to follow Brienne’s logic. “You swore that oath to Queen Sansa’s mother.” He said gently. “But she’s gone now. Doesn’t that release you?” He questioned.

Brienne shook her head. “Part of my oath was swearing to protect Lady Catelyn’s daughters, too.” She replied quietly.

Tormund thought a moment. He would have to twist her words a bit to make her come around to his way of thinking. He nodded, “So Queen Sansa has no one to protect her?” He asked, trying not to seem too obvious in his ploy.

Brienne face was pensive. “Well, no. She has Clegane now.”

Tormund’s face was a mask of seriousness. “Her husband, and her Shield.” He spoke his thoughts aloud. “Surely, he won’t let anything harm her.”

“No. Of course not.” Brienne was beginning to understand his intentions. “I also swore to serve King Bran, as Lord Commander of his Kingsguard.”

“I see.” Tormund squinted at the stars in thought. “And there is nobody guarding him now in King’s Landing?”

Brienne shrugged her shoulders, her crying subsiding. “Ser Podrick has assumed the duties of Lord Commander.” A faint smile crossed her face at the thought.

“But he’s a soft boy who cannot fight? Right?” Tormund teased.

Her back straightened, and she cocked her head to one side, a bit hurt at the implication. “He is the most capable knight in the Kingdom.” She announced proudly. “I trained him.”

Brienne’s indignant pride made Tormund smile. He tried to hide it but could not. “It sounds like everything is under control.” He offered.

His soft loving grin, made Brienne smile in response. Perhaps he was right. “Keeping my oath has been the most important thing in the world to me.” She described. Her eyes distant with memories. “For so long, all I have lived on is my honor.” She told him.

He drew her so close to him that she could hardly tell where she stopped and he began. It then occurred to her, that was how she now envisioned them. “What about now?” He challenged. “Is it all you have now?” His eyes gleamed, already knowing her answer.

Brienne rested her face against his. “Of course it’s not.” She relaxed, her eyes heavy with love for him. Her voice shaking.

“Then marry me.” He pleaded, holding tightly to her. Brienne’s eyes grew wide, and her chest refused to breathe. She simply stared at him in disbelief, her heart pounding.

Tormund was suddenly overwhelmed with nervousness. “I was going to ask you when we returned North.” He revealed. “But I don’t want to wait anymore. I want to make you my wife.” He stammered. “I almost lost you once. I will not take that chance again.” Tormund vowed.

“Please.” He begged her. “Marry me.”

Brienne could no longer hold back tears. This time, she wept with joy. “Yes.” She sighed. “Yes.” Her face beaming with happiness as she answered him. Their lips met passionately in a promise stronger than any vow.

When their lips were satisfied, their lungs exhausted, and their hearts full, Brienne and Tormund leaned back from each other to savor their promise. “You will be my wife before we leave this island.” He told her, smiling wide.

Brienne rested happily in his arms for a moment. Then, a troubling thought occurred to her. “But won’t the girls be disappointed not to be part of the ceremony?” She asked worried. “Wouldn’t you rather wait until we return beyond The Wall?” She suggested.

Tormund’s face went red and he lowered his eyes, embarrassed. “I have a confession to make?” He offered, clearing his throat. “Do you remember that challenge I fought for you when we were in the North?” He questioned, knowing full well she would never forget it. Brienne nodded her affirmative, her face awash with confusion.

Again, he took a deep breath and hesitated as he spoke. “Well, that’s about as close to a Wildling wedding ceremony as it gets.” He grinned bashfully.

“We’re already married? Aren’t we?” Brienne looked at him, an amused accusation playing in her eyes. She could hardly contain her happy laughter.

“As good as.” He admitted with a joyous grin. “In the North, anyway.” He confirmed.

Brienne threw her head back laughing more spontaneously than she had allowed herself in a long time. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him excitedly. He returned all of her delicious energy.

“Well then.” She begged. “Take me to bed. My Husband!”

  
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Tormund and Brienne entered the castle as quietly as they were able with their arms wrapped together, their lips searching for the other’s, and their bodies already beginning what promised to be an intense night of passion. They made their usual display of parting for the night at Brienne’s door, after which, Tormund made a loud show of returning to his own chambers seemingly for the rest of the night. He slammed the door behind him and then immediately turned, opening enough space between panel and frame to peer into the hall. After assuring himself that no one lurked along his path back to Brienne, he bolted from the room and ran to her suite. The door to his lady’s chamber opened before he even neared the threshold. As they reached to embrace each other, Brienne and Tormund were shocked by a thunderous roar from a few feet away.

“Giantsbane!” Lord Selwyn barked, emerging from an empty chamber across the hall. Apparently he had been waiting for them.

“Father!” Brienne shrieked, stepping next to Tormund. She blushed with embarrassment.

“What are you two doing?” Selwyn charged, fully playing the role of protective father.

Everything inside Tormund wanted to stand toe to toe with the Evenstar and declare that he had been bedding Brienne since before he had brought her to Tarth. However, he cared too much about her virtue, her honor, and her relationship with her father to go through with his urge. Instead he stayed quiet as she spoke up.

“Father!” Brienne acknowledged nervously, trying to diffuse the situation and divert Lord Selwyn’s attention from the obvious. “We have wonderful news.” She smiled a little fearfully.

“Really?” Selwyn questioned, trying to keep up his imposing glare.

“Yes.” Brienne repeated, taking Tormund’s hand. “We are going to be married.” She beamed.

Selwyn expression soften. His plan had apparently worked. He regarded his daughter and did not believe he had ever seen her happier. “Well.” He declared. “Finally!” Selwyn dropped his charade and smiled warmly.

The old man’s heart was bursting with joy and pride. However, he had to keep up some of his stern appearance, at least for awhile. “I have not given my blessing for this union.” He looked insulted. Brienne looked stricken.

Tormund remembered something Jon had said when Queen Sansa was preparing to wed Clegane. Jon had mentioned that he was sure her father would have given them his blessing if he saw how protective Clegane was of her. Apparently, getting the father’s blessing was very important to Southerners. He silently kicked himself for not thinking of this, and tried to fix his blunder.

“Ser.” He began humbly. “I am deeply in love with your daughter.” Tormund gazed at Brienne adoringly for a moment. Then his face turned deadly serious again as he spoke to Lord Selwyn. “I would give my life for her, but I would rather spend it trying to be worthy of her. If you will let me?” As he spoke from his heart, the sincerity of his words touched The Evenstar.

Lord Selwyn took a deep forceful breath. His face was serious as he held the air in his lungs, considering Tormund’s request. After a moment, he slowly exhaled and spoke. “It is about time.” He declared. “I was beginning to wonder if you two would ever speak of marriage.”

Tormund took Brienne’s hand and pressed her knuckles to his lips. “I wanted Brienne to be completely healed.” He conceded. “But it was always on my mind.” The pure love in his gaze when he looked at her was all the convincing Lord Selwyn needed to be sure that the wild man from the far North was everything he had ever wanted for his daughter.

“I will gladly give you my blessing.” Lord Selwyn announced. The anxiety on Brienne’s and Tormund’s faces beginning to turn to wide smiles. Their relief was stalled by Selwyn’s next words, however.

“On two conditions.” The Evenstar held up his hand to stop their premature merriment.

“Yes, Father?” Brienne swallowed nervously. “What conditions?” She questioned.

Selwyn nodded with nobility. “First, You will be married from the house.” He declared as if it were a foregone conclusion. He looked sternly at Tormund and cleared his throat. Tormund was still holding Brienne’s hand. He quickly dropped it and shuffled aside a few inches, understanding the importance of this moment between father and daughter.

Selwyn reached and grasped Brienne’s hands, clenching them to his chest. He drew her closer to him. “Your children will be the heirs of Evenfall.” He told her lovingly as tears came to his eyes. “Your marriage will be consecrated in our Godswood.” He demanded.

Brienne’s face grew even brighter. She looked at Tormund, who nodded his agreement with a happy smile. Turning back to Lord Selwyn, she threw her arms around his neck and embraced him as if she were a girl. “Oh, thank you, Father.” She gushed. He held her for a long moment, realizing that soon she would truly belong to someone else. He savored her unconditional love, and vowed that no distance would ever keep him from her.

At last, Selwyn let Brienne go and returned her to Tormund’s waiting arms. She nestled into his embrace, but her face still wondered at her father’s next demand. “You said two conditions?” She reminded.

Selwyn’s eyes scanned from Brienne to Tormund and back. “Very well.” He regarded them sternly, folding his arms across his broad chest. The lovers shrunk back against each in dread as he spoke. “You will stop sneaking around these halls in the middle of the night like a couple of lovesick adolescents.”

An amused smile played on Tormund’s face, while Brienne expression turned to that of a guilty child. Selwyn continued. “It is no secret that you have not spent one night in that bed down the hall.” He stared at Tormund, whose expression straightened.

“Father we...” Brienne attempted to divert Lord Selwyn’s thoughts. It did not work. He silenced her with a glare.

“Oh. Do not worry, my dear daughter.” He eased her fear with a smile. “You are both grown adults. I would expect nothing less of two people so obviously in love.”

Selwyn’s gaze washed over his daughter and he smiled, happy she had found such devotion. “Enjoy your time together.” He bid them, as his face saddened. “It is so fleeting.” Brienne drew in a shallow breath trying not to shed a tear for her father. She understood that the man was lost in memories of her mother. The woman who had given life to her, whom she could not remember, had been her father’s great love.

Brienne reached out and embraced her father once more. “I love you, Father.” She whispered. “Thank you.”

Selwyn’s heart burst with pride as he beheld Brienne. She was so much more than she would have been if he had succeeded in betrothing her when she was young. He thanked the Gods that none of his attempts at alliances had managed to subdue her spirit. She had made her own way, created her own life, and had found her own love. He let her go to the man she loved and put his arms around them both, ushering them toward their chamber. Selwyn moved himself between them to open the door. He flung the heavy panel open, nudged Brienne inside, and clamped Tormund on the back.

“Now!” He demanded of the Wildling. “Get your ass in there and make me some grandchildren. I’m not getting any younger!” He bemoaned.

Brienne turned with a gasp. Her face shocked at her father’s unguarded bluntness. Tormund howled with laughter. Selwyn reached in and closed the door behind them, leaving them to celebrate their betrothal.

Alone at last, Tormund drew Brienne into his arms and kissed her long and slow. Her incredulity at her father’s frankness quickly disappearing. He then took her arm and led her toward the bed. “You heard the man!” He shrugged.  
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Within a fortnight, Brienne and Tormund stood in the Godswood at Evenfall, their hands wrapped, pledging their love and their lives to each other. During that time a raven had been sent to Winterfell with a note announcing their plans to marry, and had been returned with Queen Sansa’s most heartfelt congratulations and wishes for a beautiful wedding. The correspondence eased Brienne’s mind regarding her duties to the Starks and gave her the freedom to focus solely on the festivities.

While Brienne was pleased to have been blessed by her father and her Queen, something else soon began to weigh on her mind. As she was preparing to wed Tormund, Brienne began to suffer boughts of unexplainable nausea. The sensation started small, but was quickly an everyday occurrence. Brienne told herself it was simply nerves from becoming the bride she never imagined she would be. When the sickness did not subside, Brienne was certain it was left over weakness from her battle injuries. She did not tell Tormund, not wishing to worry him. Brienne felt that he had known enough anguish over the past months due to her brush with death, and she would not add to it. She was sure everything would settle down as she eased into married life. So she tried her best to put her health to the back of her mind, and center herself in the activities of her wedding.

Lord Selwyn saw to the planning and details himself. Nothing escaped his scrutiny, and nothing was left to chance. He had demanded they have a traditional ceremony, feeling that it was the kind of splendor his daughter deserved. Tormund could not help but agree. Brienne’s only request was that it be kept a small affair. The Evenstar complied, and the guest list consisted of only a few close relatives and noble families from Tarth as well as Selwyn’s most trusted advisors. Although the celebration was a modest one, the day was still a whirlwind of activity. Early that morning, Tormund was ushered from the bed chamber he now openly shared with Brienne so that she could prepare. He did not see her for the rest of the day. The wait seemed interminable.

It was nearly nightfall when the ceremony began. Tormund had not caught even a glimpse of Brienne the entire day, and he almost physically ached for her. Finally, she emerged from the castle on her father’s arm, and walked the trail to him. It seemed to Tormund that she glided. He had never seen anything more heavenly in his life, and he was awestruck. Brienne wore her mother’s wedding dress. A pale blue gown made a few inches longer by a ruffle of matching blue lace at the hem. It sat off her shoulders framing her graceful neck, and brought out her lovely eyes. The neckline had been trimmed in fur, a tribute to her betrothed. Although he had given them up during his time on Tarth for lighter and cooler garments, not yielding to the warm day on which the ceremony was held, Tormund stood for his bride in his traditional Free Folk furs. It was a symbol of the world that Brienne was joining. A reminder of the life she was wholeheartedly accepting. He waited in anticipation at the end of the ancient path that so many of Brienne’s ancestors had walked before them.

When she caught sight of Tormund, Brienne’s eyes began to glisten with happy tears. He was the strongest, most dashing, proudest man she had ever seen standing straight and tall in his Northern furs. She had never allowed herself to dream of marriage and a family. She had told herself it was not something she desired. Now, as she walked toward the man who would, within a few moments become her husband, that life with him was all she wanted.

As Brienne and her father reached the end of the path, Selwyn kissed his daughter’s cheek, and placed her hand in Tormund’s grasp. As she gave him a loving smile, Brienne noticed that his eyes were also wet with happy tears. They had been through so much, but now none of it mattered. Turning toward the family’s septon, they joined hands and realized they were both trembling. The cleric spoke over them and wrapped their hands with the same ribbon that had joined Brienne’s parents. Together, they voiced the words that would bind them forever, locked in an adoring gaze.

“I am his/hers, and he/she is mine. From this day, until the end of my day.” They pledged, overwhelmed with emotion. “With this kiss, I pledge my love and take you as my husband/wife.” They declared, and their lips met in a sweet passionate promise.

As their lips parted, the septon announced their marriage. “Who were two are now one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” He affirmed.

Following the wedding, Lord Selwyn hosted a dinner celebration in honor of the bride and groom. The food was plentiful and delicious, the conversation jovial and exuberant. Brienne and Tormund barely noticed any of it. They were lost in each other and the life they had just begun together. At first shocked that The Evenstar had welcomed a savage Wildling into his family, those in attendance came to understand when the observed closeness between his daughter and her new husband, and how deeply the two were in love. Brienne and Tormund thanked Lord Selwyn and their guests, but retired early to enjoy their wedding night.  
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A few days after they had been wed, Brienne and Tormund strolled together through one of the large wildflower laden meadows that blanketed the mountains of Tarth. They had assumed that after the ceremony, everything would return to its usual order. However, a few guests still lingering at Evenfall and all of their moments were quickly filled. On this warm sun drenched afternoon, the newlyweds slipped away to enjoy some time by themselves.

Brienne had brought her new husband to a familiar plain, high on a hillside, where there would be no one nearby and only the sounds of the surf from below to surround them. She would often run to this place as a girl when the teasing became unbearable. She would lay amidst the wildflowers for hours and dream of her future. It seemed only right that Brienne bring Tormund here now. He was her future.

Their hands mingled as they ambled along the pathway, rising higher on the mountainside with each step. Tormund marveled at how Brienne looked like an angel, framed by the colorful petals and the sapphire sea beyond. The soft breeze played with her hair, sweeping it around her face. She was absolutely glowing in the warm sunlight. He froze in his steps, and stopped her momentum with his outstretched arm holding onto her hand. She looked back at him and smiled. They did not speak. They did not need to.

Tormund pulled Brienne into his arms and kissed her gently. The sweetness of his lips as he pressed closer brought a contented sigh from her throat. For some reason she desired him even more of late. She thought it was simply the bond of their new union. Brienne reached her arm around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair. Tormund wrapped his arms around her waist and nestled her to the ground. The kiss they shared grew more passionate and probing.

Brienne had worn a lightweight gown. The material was soft and flowed around her body like wisps of smoke. The sleeveless bodice wrapped around her and tied in the front. Tormund wasted no time in untying the sash of her dress and exposing her enticing skin to him as he lay down beside her. She welcomed him with a wanting smile, pulling her skirts away from her legs. Tormund slid his hand along Brienne’s hip gently removing the satiny small cloth she wore. She bent one knee upward leaning it against his hip, teasingly hiding herself as she rolled to meet him. She kissed him harder, tasting his tongue with hers.

For a moment, Brienne took the lead, sliding her hands under his tunic and raising it above his head. Tormund held his arms above his head to allow her to slip it completely off. The warm sun covered his back as he leaned into her, supporting himself on one arm while the other glided across her ribcage and caressed her flawless breasts. She tried to ignore the unusual tender pain that his manipulation caused. His hungry mouth nibbled it’s way down her neck and his hand moved from her chest toward the hidden “v” at the top of her legs. Her head fell backward, her chin lifting toward the sky, and she moaned softly as he forced her legs apart and delved toward the pleasures held within. She could feel him hard against her hip, and she shuttered as his searching fingers caused her own warmth to flow over them. Her body beckoned him in. He accepted her invitation.

Moving away from her only long enough to remove his own britches, he returned to her even more ravenous than before. Lifting up slightly, he brought his weight down upon her, and entered her in one motion. His mouth found her luscious lips, and he kissed her hard and searchingly. Her entire body was on fire at his touch. The feeling of him inside her, thrusting himself toward his goal, drove her wild. They had shared their passion before, however for some reason now it seemed even more fulfilling, more intense, more agonizingly perfect.

As she lay with Tormund among the wildflowers, it felt to Brienne that she had seen it all before. She quickly searched her memory, and then came upon this very scene. She recalled the first night she had spent at Winterfell, when Queen Sansa had summoned her. It was the night before she and Tormund had begun their journey in The North. That night she had not dreamed of Jaime Lannister. She had dreamed of Tormund, here in her meadow, with her. In her dream they were making love just as they were now. Brienne smiled and the awe of her expression made him pause for a moment.

“What is it, my love?” He asked softly, curiously.

Brienne smiled warmly and brushed her fingers against his face. “I dreamed of this.” She told him, her eyes still holding onto the image. “I dreamed of you.” She said as a small tear trickled from the corner of her eye.

Tormund held her even tighter, and found himself drawn even closer to her as his fervor began anew. So excited by her revelation was he, that he could barely contain his need for her. She grasped his shoulders as he drove into her, harder and deeper. His moans matching her. Brienne’s breath burst from her lungs in shallow gasps, as he turned the attentions of his mouth to her breasts. The pleasure overtook the pain as he traced her hard nipples with his tongue. She dug her nail into his skin at the sensations he was bringing her.

“Oh Gods!” She screamed. “I love you.” Her declaration echoed along the hillside.

He raised his head to meet her impassioned gaze, and answered her breathlessly. “And I love you, my Wife.” He affirmed smiling with disbelief that she was actually his.

Adoringly they gazed into each other’s eyes as they continued to ride the waves of passion that rivaled the ocean currents below them. Together their need grew until at last it could be denied no longer and they reached their climax as one, their loving stare never parting. Exhausted and satisfied, they collapsed against each other in the tall grass.

After a while their breathing calmed to pleasant sighs as they clung to each other. Slowly, they sat up and pulled their clothing around them. Then they reclined there looking out over the ocean, Brienne enfolded in Tormund’s arms. Her thoughts began to wander, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to be safely tucked into their little skin covered nest North of the Wall.

She turned and looked at him with more seriousness than he had ever seen. “I’m ready to go now.” She told him.

Tormund smiled. “Shall I carry you back to Evenfall?” He teased, kissing her jawline.

Brienne laughed at the image he painted, but it was not what she had in mind. “That’s not what I mean.” She corrected. He looked puzzled.

“We’ve been gone from the North for too long.” Brienne lamented, raising her eyes to him lovingly, and bringing her hand up to touch his cheek.

“Take me home.” Brienne pleaded. Tormund beamed at her with a smile that rivaled the brightness of the sun. Reaching for her once more, he kissed her long and sweet. He understood exactly what she meant.  
——————————————  
The Outlander was nearly healed. He had not heard his real name in so long, he feared he might forget it. He had to admit he was much more fond of his current monicker, than his last epithet. “Kingslayer,” had never been a name he wanted to get used to. Unfortunately, Jaime Lannister was not a name held dear to him any longer, either. His heart wrenched to think of how Brienne must now hate it. His own actions had caused him to lose the only woman he ever really loved, and he loathed himself for that as well. As the months had crawled into a year and further, he realized that Brienne was truly the one who possessed his heart. He had fooled himself his entire life into believing that he loved Cersei. At last he could admit that it was her convenience he had cherished. She offered things he was not allowed to have. Of course she also took all of those things from him. His honor, his self-respect, even his own children were never to be his. Cersei had controlled and manipulate him his entire life. He now understood, that it was his weakness and insecurity that kept him with her. With Brienne it was so different. She made him better than he ever dreamed he could be, and made him want to be. He had never before been given the chance of being an honorable man. Brienne saw nothing else in him, and he adored the honor in her. He understood now that it was Brienne’s selfless encouragement of him that had been the only real love he had ever known. He dreamed of the day he would return to her and grovel for forgiveness.

At least he was up and walking, now. That was one step back to her. He had finally gained enough mobility that he could hobble weakly to the drinking establishment nearby the tiny mud house his brother, Tyrion, had procured for him. Those who saw to his care, his Keepers as he called them, were dismayed by the amount of time he spent at the closest thing there was to a tavern in Asabahd. Due to the town’s location on the edge of a trade route he soon found that on occasion wayfarers from Westeros, or at least those with news of the realm, passed through the exotic outpost. Many stopped to refresh themselves at the tavern, and he listened in the shadows to all their stories.

Jaime kept to himself. He and would sit for hours nursing tankards of ale, straining his senses to detect conversations about his homeland, and dreaming of the woman he had left behind. On an oppressively warm afternoon his breath caught in his throat, when he spied a lady traveler with shocking long golden locks. The woman reminded him of Cersei. He suddenly realized that he now thought not at all of his sister, the one for whom he had left his true love. The one who had died in the same collapse that had nearly destroyed his body. Part of him felt a pang of guilt at the thought. She had been, after all, profoundly connected to him. The pain lasted only a moment, and was replaced by the even greater shame of what he had done to his great love, to Brienne. Her pain-filled face as he left her haunted his waking and sleeping alike. He had lived without his sword hand, had become quite used to its absence. What he could not accustom himself to was living without his very heart. Jaime had told himself he was leaving Brienne to save her from the evil in him, but that made him sound brave. The truth was he was a coward, too afraid of Cersei to have faith in the love he felt for Brienne. He had loved her too much, and it had scared him to death.

After weeks of hearing nothing about Westeros, finally there was word, and it was of her. The Outlander sat in his usual chair in the corner, brooding to himself. He barely noticed the two road weary, dust covered strangers who straggled in from the street. They moved unconcerned past the shell of his body and took the table behind him. Their accents told that they were most certainly from Andalos, possibly Pentos or Bravos. The only reason he even paid mind to them was that thinking of those places to the west reminded him how far he was from home. Then, they began to discuss the details of a great battle in which one had just taken part.

“That place was the coldest I have ever suffered.” The larger man declared. “My very joints were freezing up.” The other stranger chortled at the thought.

“It was a stupid blunder.” The first continued. “That place...Eastwatch, they call it.” He sneered. “It was nothing but a ruin.” He took a long loud gulp of his ale. Jaime’s ears pricked at the mention of a familiar place. He had never been to the destroyed fortress, but he knew very well where it was. It was on the edge of the North, near Brienne.

“The Commanders said it was the key to their North.” The burly fellow recalled. “And that would lead to the whole of Westeros.” After another guzzle he plodded on, his companion hanging on his every word. “If they’d not been paying in gold, I never would have signed up.” He swore.

“So what was the fighting like.” The soldier’s friend urged.

“We were outmatched from the start.” Said the fighter. “ Their King is from the North. Our Generals should have known he would send troops to defend his home.” The man shook his head. “There were more than could have ever been defeated. What was left of the Northern fighters, and Southern guards. There must have been a thousand of those crazy wildmen from farther North than even Westeros reaches.” He exaggerated.

Jaime Lannister chuckled to himself. It appeared Queen Sansa had made some fortunate alliances. His amusement did not comfort him. With thoughts of the Queen he remembered how Brienne had pledged her service to the Starks. His stomach turned, wondering if she had been part of the battle. He soon had his answer.

The man who sat behind The Outlander recounting the Battle at Eastwatch had summoned another tankard, and grabbed a whore to set on his lap. “It wasn’t all bad.” He slurped. “If I had not seen it, I would not have believed it.” He snorted. “It seems those Westerosi are letting their women fight for them now.” He laughed. Jaime froze.

“There was a woman, in armor, fighting alongside the men.” His voice rose in awe. “She was quite amazing. As tall as any man there, and swung her blade better than most.” The man reported.

With his back turned to them, they could not see Jaime catch his breath, hanging on their every word. Brienne had been there. She fought with all the bravery, skill, honor, and selflessness that had made him fall in love with her. Closing his eyes, he could almost see her deep in battle. He was beside her again, blades thrashing in unison, if only for a moment. The Essosi man was right. She was amazing.

“I saw the moment she was cut down.” The now drunken traveler bragged. The heart of the man who listened so secretly and intently to his words stopped. He could not breathe. The world began to spin, and he grasped the sides of his chair to keep from falling over.

“One of ours reached up with his spear, and with the last of his strength...” He laughed coldly. “Nearly cut the yellow-haired bitch in two.”

His words crashed into Jaime’s skull. No. It could not be true. She was alive. She was well, and serving the Starks. She had to be. He was shaking. He never shook. When they took his hand, when he fought the dead by her side, they had not made him tremble. Now, here, so far from her, he felt as if he were falling off the edge of the world. He should have been with her.

The Outlander rose, and turned to the men upon whose conversation he had been eavesdropping. Taking a step, he practically fell onto their table, his legs unable to carry him. The woman who had been warming the big man’s lap fled in fear. “Did she live?” Jaime beseeched them, his eyes frantic. The men started to rise, ready to fight, but something about the urgent near-crazed look on the stranger’s face made them wait.

“Who are you?” They yelled, not dropping their guard.

“Did she live?” Jaime screamed, his anger overtaking his caution.

“Get the Hell out of here.” The Essosi soldier shouted. “I will excuse this interruption since you are obviously drunk, and obviously impaired.” He noticed the stranger’s missing hand, and weak body.

“Please!” The broken man begged. “I have to know.” He took a sack of coins from his belt and slammed it down on the table in front of the strong muscular man.

The Essosi fighter considered the offer, while pulling the money toward him. “I do not know if she lived, but I think she was alive when he took her from the beachhead.”

“He?” The weaker man asked. “Who?” Jaime hoped it had been just a fellow soldier.

“There was a man with her.” The soldier replied. “One of those fur covered half-animals from beyond that blasted Wall. Beard down to his chest, the color of fire, with hair to match.” He relayed.

“Giantsbane!” Jaime seethed. So, the Wildling had seized his opening.

The men looked puzzled at each other, not sure of what this strange man was speaking. “He was crazed. Screaming and ripping shreds of his own garments, stuffing them into her wound.” The large one said. “Then he picked her up and ran off somewhere.” He was growing impatient to return to his drinking.

Jaime did not see them as he gathered himself, turned from the confused men, and stumbled from the inn. He could not stand being in this far off crossroads any longer. Tyrion had hidden him here, but he no longer wanted to be sheltered away. He assured himself that Brienne was alive. ‘It would take more than some weak Essosi spear to kill Ser Brienne of Tarth.’ He repeated desperately to himself.

Jaime was certain that she still loved him. He needed to believe that. He needed to find her. He was not The Outlander. He was not the Kingslayer. She had told him as much. He was Jamie Lannister. If he had to crawl the entire way on his hands and knees, if it took him the rest of his life, he would find her. He was going home. He was going to claim what was his.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newly married, Brienne and Tormund stop at Winterfell on their way home to the Real North, where they receive happy news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of Sansan in this chapter as well as Briemund, of course. There is even a little Gendrya at the end.

Brienne and Tormund returned to the North the way they had traveled to Tarth, by ship. It was one of their wedding gifts from Lord Selwyn, and they enjoyed the pleasant, effortless time to settle into married life together. As with their voyage to Evenfall most of their time was spent in their cabin lounging together, this time in their marriage bed. There were afternoon strolls along the deck, and evenings spent at the rail admiring the stars. However, they would usually find their longings too overwhelming to ignore, and hastily return to the privacy of their berth.

The couple sailed as far as White Harbor where they disembarked. Brienne insisted that they pay their respects to Queen Sansa and her newborn heir. Mounting the horses they had boarded in the hold, they rode the rest of the way to Winterfell. The journey was a fairly easy ride. The hills in the North rolled gently, and they were able to follow the well traveled roads for most of the way.

Much to her dismay, Brienne found that the nausea which had begun to plague her on Tarth did not subside when the stresses of preparing for her wedding disappeared. On the sea vessel, when her travels began, she had found something else upon which to blame the uneasy feeling. Surely it was seasickness from skimming over the waves that was causing the queasiness in her stomach. Now, however, she plodded easily along the trail and was relaxed and calm beside Tormund. There should have been nothing at all to make her feel sick. Nothing except for the one thing she could not bring herself to contemplate.

As she road quietly alongside her husband, memories of their time together in the North and beyond The Wall came flooding back to her. Brienne focused on them in an attempt to calm her racing mind, and ease her upset stomach. It was when she realized that in losing herself with him on Tarth she had also lost all concept of time, that she began to grow truly alarmed. Brienne had not noticed that her moon blood had not come. She searched her mind and drew in a quick startled gasp upon realizing that she had not bled since just before the battle at Eastwatch. That had been weeks ago. No, over two cycles of the moon had passed since then. She was noticing other changes in herself. Her body felt somehow softer, almost unfamiliar, and she felt as if she could sleep for a hundred years. She was not used to feeling so tired all the time.

Brienne’s heart began to race at the idea her brain was trying desperately not to form. She knew Tormund wanted children with her. Of course she wanted that too. It seemed a far off dream. Just as Brienne had given up the thought of ever becoming a wife, before she had fallen in love with Tormund, she had never wished for motherhood. Her dreams had lain on the battlefield. She simply assumed it would never happen. She was also well aware of the dangers that noble womanly endeavor could hold. Her own mother had succumbed to the valiant fight to bring a child into the world. Now that it was a true possibility, Brienne was suddenly terrified. How could a woman who had trained for nothing but battle her entire life be a decent mother?

Brienne did not realize that she had grown quiet and her expression was stoic, transfixed on some distant preoccupation. They had ridden for some distance and she had not said a word. Tormund noticed her suddenly solemn manner. He had also realized that his wife was tiring easily. He was certain she was not feeling well, but she was not telling him. At first, he feared that Brienne was suffering some lingering aftermath from her battle wounds, an impulse he quickly discounted. She had been returned to full health for sometime, and had shown no lingering effects from her injuries. He knew her nervousness over their wedding had caused her some distress, but that was over now and it had been a happy time. He searched his mind for other explanations. All but one fell short. The only reason that seemed stuck in his mind was that as they neared Winterfell, the memories of what had occurred there were plaguing her thoughts. He knew it would not have been her recollections of their battle with the dead. She was a warrior, like him, and learned long ago to deal with the left overs of fighting. What plagued his mind was the thought that Brienne was upset over the reminders of her time there with the Kingkiller. Tormund had thought he had managed to erase all notions of Jaime Lannister from her mind, but perhaps he had been wrong. He had no doubts of Brienne’s love for him, but she had held strong feelings for the man. He now feared that coming to Winterfell was causing her to relive the pain he wished he could have protected her from. Of one thing he was certain, he would know what was troubling Brienne, and calm her mind of it before they crossed into the Real North.  
——————————————-  
Brienne and Tormund arrived at Winterfell in the early afternoon of an unusually sunny day, and were greeted at the gate by an unexpectedly large welcoming party. Jon Snow and The Queen in the North herself stood leading a small regiment of familiar faces. Beside them King Bran, who had ventured to Winterfell to celebrate his new niece smiled peacefully, almost as if he were peering into their future. The King’s hand, Lord Tyrion stood somewhat off to the side. His expression one of happy relief that Brienne had indeed found the joy he knew she so richly deserved. Next to him at the ready, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Podrick Payne smiled at Brienne with pride.

Sansa looked radiant. It was barely evident that she had given birth only a moon prior. Jon grinned widely at the couple. The happiness and pride on Tormund’s face was undeniable, and it warmed Jon’s heart to see. He recalled the last time he had seen them, at Eastwatch, just after the battle. Jon’s mind went back to watching his friend falling apart, trying to heal Brienne through sheer will. He had succeeded. How different these past months might have been. Jon was thrilled to see their joy, and excited for the two of them at having joined their lives.

Tormund jumped down from his horse, and held the reigns of Brienne’s mount as she did the same. Stepping forward, Jon embraced the red haired mountain of a man with a slapping hug. “It’s good to see you, You Crazy Old Man!” Jon laughed.

“Not so crazy anymore.” Tormund laughed and turned toward Brienne, his arm still pressing around Jon’s shoulders. He held his other hand out and took hold of Brienne’s fingers, raising them high. “Thanks to my wife. The woman who tamed the bear!” he grinned proudly at her.

Brienne reached out and tossled his beard. “Only subdued a little.” She laughed, as Jon embraced her warmly, now considering her family. She returned the jovial affection.

One by one, those who had turned out to greet them stepped forward to bid them well wishes. Brienne knelt before the King who offered his most heartfelt gratitude at all she and Tormund had done for the realm. He relayed to them how he was certain he and Jon Snow had made the right choice in sending them, and that he was heartened to see Brienne healed. His expression seemed almost knowing when he congratulated them on their marriage.

Podrick strided through the tiny crowd and stepped up to Brienne. His eyes sparkled, his cheeks puffed in a delighted grin. Brienne grabbed his shoulder, pleased to see her former squire. “Podrick!” She proclaimed, then corrected herself. “Ser Podrick.” She straightened a bit formally.

“How about just Pod?” He offered, to her friendly nod. He could not stand on ceremony with her. She had taught him everything he knew. He was simply overjoyed to see Brienne. When she had left Kingslanding, he felt he would never lay eyes on her again. When the reports came in of her injuries in battle, he feared he had been correct. It was truly a relief to have her standing in front of him. It was almost like old times, except now instead of Ser Jaime at her side it was the Wildling, Tormund Giantsbane, her husband.

Lord Tyrion stepped forward and bowed in reverence. “The whole of Westeros owes you both a debt greater than can ever be repaid.” He announced.

Although he could read no animosity in Lord Tyrion’s actions, Tormund was eager to announce his victory in winning Brienne to the Kingkiller’s brother. “No Need!” He boomed gleefully, grabbing Brienne around the waist and drawing her to him. “I got what I wanted.” His eyes were staring into hers before his sentence was finished. He accentuated his declaration by kissing his wife, long and slow. She seemed to melt into his embrace.

When his breath was gone, Tormund let loose of Brienne, who laughed and brought her hand softly to his cheek. “So did I.” She proclaimed, her gaze upon him making it clear to all that she wished for no other man but him.

Podrick and Jon rolled their eyes and chuckled at the display. Tyrion’s smiled grew wider. Only a year earlier, the hand with which Brienne had just caressed her husband’s face would have been used to slap it had he attempted the same maneuver. Tyrion often marveled at how quickly life could change. Behind his smile a pang of sadness crept into his thoughts. It was not for Brienne. He was glad she had such a love. It was for Jaime. Tyrion knew that it was Brienne that Jaime had truly loved, even if he had left her. He had sent his injured brother to the far off reaches of Essos hoping he would recover and someday return to his life in Westeros. Tyrion had hoped, that after much groveling, that life might have included Brienne. He could not blame her, she had the right to choose her own life and her path. Although, he knew his brother would be devastated when he learned that Brienne belonged to another, Jaime had made a choice and he would have to live with it. Brienne was Tyrion’s friend, and he was happy for her.

Sansa watched the joyful reunion from a few feet away. Although her face was pleasantly stoic, her heart was soaring. Brienne beamed with a happiness she could scarce remember ever seeing on her former shield’s face. Even during the small amount of time Jamie Lannister had stayed with Brienne at Winterfell, making her think that he would be hers forever, Sansa had not seen her as jubilant. She was certain that Brienne’s eyes never sparkled at Ser Jaime with the love and devotion they now held when she looked at Tormund. Sansa could not have been happier for them.

Brienne withdrew from the group, stepping toward Sansa. She bent her knee and bowed low before her. “My Queen.” She said, humbly lowering her head. Tormund took his place at Brienne’s side and nodded respectfully to Sansa.

Sansa smiled warmly. “Please stand up, Ser Brienne.” She implored. “It is I who should bow in deference to you.” She bent her head solemnly, as Brienne rose.

“House Stark is....” Sansa began, but paused thinking of the sacrifice Brienne had nearly made for her. She had almost lost her life to see The North safe and secure. “I am forever in your debt.” Sansa conceded. “Both of you.” Sansa’s eyes moved sympathetically to Tormund. The loss had almost been his as well

“Not at all, Your Grace.” Brienne denied. “It was our duty and honor to serve.” She assured The Queen in the North.

Sansa nodded, pleased with her choice of agents for her cause, and relieved that Brienne was once again healthy. “Please accept my heartiest congratulations on your marriage.” She told them, her smile genuine and caring.

Brienne and Tormund leaned into one another. Tormund’s arm ran up Brienne’s back, and caressed her shoulder blade softly. The sweetest charge of contentment and security coursed through her at his touch. Her happiness showed in the sweet smile she gave him. Sansa noticed, and was glad for her.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Brienne accepted Sansa’s well wishes humbly. “We wished to offer our deepest tribute on the birth of your heir.” Brienne complimented.

Sansa’s smile grew even wider at the mention of her daughter. “Thank you. She is truly our blessing.” The Queen’s voice was tinged with pride.

“Where is Clegane?” Tormund wondered, looking around surprised that The Queen’s Sword and husband was nowhere to be seen. “I thought he never left your side.” He questioned, noticing Jon snickering beside him.

Sansa lowered her eyes bashfully, but laughed with amusement. “Oh, it appears he is someone else’s Sworn Shield, now.” She jokingly lamented. “I don't believe he has left the nursery for more than five minutes since Elinore was born.” She chuckled.

Tormund grinned and nodded, remembering how he himself had been overprotective of his own daughters when they were small. Brienne eyed him sweetly and laughed. She knew that he still felt exactly the same about Munda and Anya. Perhaps it was the talk of Sansa’s newborn, and the gleam in the Queen’s eyes at the mention of her child. Perhaps it was the thought of Tormund’s closeness with his girls, and the image of how fiercely protective and loving he would be with their child. Brienne was suddenly overcome with an unfamiliar hope that her suspicions, that she might be carrying his child, were true. She turned toward her husband, and looked into his adoring eyes. Abruptly, and from where she did not know, it was all she wanted in the entire world.

Noticing Brienne’s pensiveness, Sansa was eager to speak with her privately. The Queen wanted to assure her former protector that the oath she had once sworn to the Starks would not intrude upon her new happy life. “Brienne, please accompany me?” Sansa offered. “Would you like to meet Elinore?” She asked thoughtfully.

Brienne brightened with an almost surprised smile. “Oh yes, Your Grace.” Brienne beamed. “Yes. Very much.” She nodded.

“Then, by all means.” Sansa agreed.

“What a lovely name you have given to your child, Your Grace.” Brienne commented.

Sansa lowered her eyes a little. “We named her for Sandor’s dear lost sister.”

Brienne recalled having heard rumors about the death of the young Clegane sister, and was touched at their celebration of her life. “A perfect way to honor her.” She said.

“Thank you.” Sansa answered gratefully.

The Queen then turned back to the others who stood nearby. Her air of resolve let them know that catching up would have to wait for later. Bran, and Tyrion begged their leave having urgent matters of the realm with which to attend. They each nodded toward Brienne and bowed to Sansa as they left, taking Ser Podrick with them.

To Jon and Tormund, Sansa grinned. “I will send Sandor down directly.” She laughed. “I’m sure you men can entertain yourselves for a while.” Sansa said with certainty.

“Of course.” Jon answered with a smile. Tormund nodded in concurrence.

“Very well, then.” Sansa took Brienne by the arm.

“I’ll find you later.” Brienne told Tormund as she was led toward the Great Hall by the Queen.  
——————  
As usual, Winterfell was bustling with activity, even inside. The Great Hall was a busy whirlwind of servants, and squires, and bannermen, as Sansa led Brienne through the dimly lit space toward the stairway. Brienne dutifully followed the Queen up the steps and along the hallway to the Stark family’s private quarters. She had grown used to the calm still passageways of Evenfall, and noted the difference between the serene oceanside lifestyle of her home, and the businesslike atmosphere of the North. While she felt equally at ease in either, her heart ached for the freedom of Real North, her home with her husband.

As the women neared their destination, Sansa could hold her decorum no longer. She turned to Brienne and almost squirmed with delight. “So.” She smirked playfully. “When did you realize your feelings for Tormund Giantsbane had changed so drastically?” She questioned Brienne.

Brienne blushed bashfully, and lowered her eyes. “It was not long after we left here together.” She admitted.

Sansa reached out and squeezed Brienne’s arm. “Did he wear you down, or win you over?” She begged. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed a little girl talk.

Brienne smiled warmly with the memory of her first realization that she was in love with Tormund. She saw again his caring and kindness as they traveled together. She recalled his total commitment to their cause. What made Brienne smile the broadest was the thought of his unconditional devotion to her. “Oh.” She nodded. “He won me over. Completely.” She reported.

Sansa could tell from the look on Brienne’s face, that the devotion that was obvious on Tormund’s part, was now truly reciprocated in her heart as well. “I am so happy for you both.” Sansa told her genuinely. “No one deserves such happiness more than you.” She gushed.

Brienne thought she saw tears brimming in the eyes of her Queen, and was overwhelmed with gratitude. “Your kind wishes mean so much.” Brienne answered humbly. As they reached the chamber door, Sansa again squeezed Brienne’s fingers to emphasize the hopes she held for her.

Sansa turned the large pewter knob of the heavy door to the suite she shared with her husband, Sandor. She gestured for Brienne to enter, and led her to a small warm room just off the main chamber. Brienne noticed how Sansa’s expression and motions grew happy and excited as they neared the alcove where her family waited. She wondered if her countenance changed similarly when Tormund was near.

As she passed Brienne became aware of two women, undoubtedly the infant’s nurses, cowering in the main chamber. There, crammed into the small room looking like a giant compared to the tiny babe he cradled in his arms, they found Sandor Clegane pacing back and forth with a look of extreme uneasiness on his face. When he saw his wife he exhaled and relaxed visibly, although the concern still tinged his voice.

“Little Bird.” Clegane beckoned when he saw Sansa. “Does she feel warm to you?” He asked fearfully.

Sansa stepped beside her husband and smiled widely at her babe. Placing her hand aside the child’s head, she kissed her little temple lovingly and placated the girl’s worried father.

Understanding the protectiveness of the man she loved, who never thought he would be a father, Sansa tried her best to ease his mind. “Well, Dear.” She said, her pleasant calm alleviating some of his fear. “Perhaps if we removed a few of these blankets.” She smiled lovingly unwrapping her daughter from two of the four small infant-sized quilts in which he had wrapped the child.

“What if she gets chilled?” He questioned Sansa with concern.

Sansa lovingly touched his arm, and smiled at him. “I think she will be fine.” She told him in a kind but firm tone that told him she would not argue about it. Brienne stood back and watched, amused at their sweet family dynamic. She envied the Queen and Clegane their little family, and wondered how Tormund would be with a child of their own.

“My love.” Sansa attempted to draw Sandor’s attentions away from his worries as she removed another blanket from their daughter, hopefully unseen. “Ser Brienne and Tormund have finally arrived.” She motioned toward Brienne who stood beside the doorway.

“Clegane.” Brienne nodded. Her gaze moved to the babe in Sansa’s arms, and then back to the sour expression on the large man’s face. “Congratulations.” She offered.

He grunted gruffly which Brienne took to be the only acknowledgement of her platitude he was planning on giving. He did however, answer in his typical no-nonsense style. “Tarth.” He snorted in greeting. “Or should I say, Lady Giantsbane?” He remarked.

Brienne realized that was as close to felicitations on her marriage that she would ever get from him, and accepted it humbly. “Yes. That will do.” She answered at his suggestion of how to address her. Brienne had not thought of what her official title now was, but she could think of no greater way to honor her husband than to take his name. She would always be of Tarth, but now she was also Tormund’s wife, and she proudly wanted the entire world to know.

“My Love.” Sansa interrupted drawing Sandor’s attentions back to her. “Jon and Tormund are in the courtyard somewhere. “I am sure you could use a break from the baby.” She offered in a tone that said it was not a choice.

Sandor Clegane began to protest, but was hushed by the simple rise of one of Sansa’s brows. “You should go see what they’re up to.” Sansa smiled sweetly at him.

His shoulders slumped. It was useless for him to try to argue. He could refuse her nothing. “Fine.” He agreed solemnly, and turned toward the door.

Sansa stopped him for a moment. Brienne moved back trying to disappear into the shadows and eyed the floor, smiling to herself. Their daughter resting safely in her arms, Sansa walked him to the door of the main chamber, the nurses having taken their grateful leave. She could not bare the hurt look on his face, and wanted to comfort her protector. Placing her small hand upon his large upper arm, she pulled him around to her.

Sansa caressed his jaw softly. “You are such a wonderful father, and you keep us so safe.” She praised him. “But, I wanted some time alone with Brienne. Remember, what I told you, about her oath?” She informed him.

Sandor nodded, and lowered his head to nuzzle Sansa’s neck. “Yes, but I don’t like being that far from either of you.” He murmered.

Sansa stepped closer to him, and wrapped her free arm around his broad shoulders. “I know.” She smiled. “I won’t be long.”

He nodded sulkily. “Alright.” He capitulated, lowering his head. “But you will send for me if you need me?” He begged, kissing his daughter softly on the head, and then moving his lips to taste her mother more passionately.

Sansa lost her breath as she lost herself in their kiss. “I will.” She smiled and nodded when they parted. She watched him leave, and closed the door behind him.

Returning to Brienne in the nursery, Sansa grinned shyly. “Forgive me.” She asked. “Sometimes he just takes a little...” she rolled her eyes searching for the right word. “Finesse.” Sansa looked down understandingly at her daughter as if the two shared a secret.

Brienne laughed, thinking of the ways that she already had Tormund wrapped around her little finger. “It is quite alright, Your Grace.” She acknowledged. “And understandable.” Brienne’s eyes went dotingly to the infant in Sansa’s arms.

Sansa proudly recognized the admiration with which Brienne beheld her child. “Would you like to hold her?” She offered.

“Oh, Your Grace.” Brienne gasped. “May I?” She requested reverently.

“Of course.” Sansa smiled warmly. “Come, let’s sit.” Brienne followed Sansa a few steps to a cushioned settee near the window. As she sat, Sansa carefully placed her infant in Brienne’s arms.

At any other time Brienne would have politely protested at the thought of holding a baby in her arms. She had never believed that she would ever be a mother, had never even hoped for it. Now, however, it seemed a real possibility that she might be carrying a child of her own, Brienne could not take her eyes from the tiny sweet face. Holding an infants now, to her felt so right.

“Your Grace.” Brienne signed to Sansa. “She’s beautiful.” The Queen reveled in the compliment to her child, but saw in Brienne’s eyes the same sense of confused wonder she had known when she first began to suspect she was with child.

The babe relaxed in Brienne’s arms. She had not imagined herself capable of comforting a child. She sat in silence for some time marveling at the young princess in awe. Sansa watched beside her, lost in delight. Elinore cooed and wriggled happily in the arms of her mother’s defender. The two women could have happily continued that way for the rest of the afternoon. It was the babe herself who decided otherwise. Suddenly realizing her tiny stomach was empty, the little girl began squirm and whimper uncomfortably.

Her daughter having brought her back to reality, Sansa also realized the source of the child’s discomfort. She smiled sheepishly as Brienne looked at her suddenly unsure what do to. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Sansa apologized as she reached to take her babe into her arms. Brienne relinquished Elinore, relieved. “I had no idea it was getting so late.” She could scarce believe that she had been so lost in watching Brienne maternal instincts begin to flower, that she had not noticed the signs from her own body that would have told her of her daughter’s need.

Sansa nuzzled the babe close to her, and began to loosen the ties of her bodice. “Do you mind?” She asked, smiling bashfully at Brienne.

“Not at all.” Brienne answered earnestly. “I will leave you to your privacy.” She offered.

Sansa waved her hand, and shook her head. “There is no need. We are both women.” She chuckled.

Sansa had become accustomed to having other women around while she nursed her babe. Usually it was her maids and the child’s care givers. It was a welcome change to have another lady with whom she felt close. Sansa arranged the blanket that covered her child so that she would be slightly hidden for modesty sake, but left most of herself exposed for the girl’s comfort. She settled into the familiar relaxed peacefulness she shared with her daughter while she fed her.

Brienne’s discomfort soon gave way to astonishment and reverence as she watched the young queen caring for her babe. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine herself seeing to the needs of her own child, in her warm comfortable home in the North, Tormund by her side. Brienne felt her heart filling with hope that her suspicions were correct. Suddenly she was ready to face the truth of which she had been so fearful.

Sansa finished nursing Elinore, laced her bodice, and settled the now sleeping babe in her arms. Brienne cleared her throat, yet she was barely able to speak. “May I ask you a personal question, Your Grace?” She began softly.

“Of course.” Sansa smiled warmly.

Brienne wrung her hands to calm her trembling. “I...” Suddenly, she could not find her breath. “That is...when did...?” She could not form a coherent thought.

Sansa saw her distress, and touched her arm comfortingly. “Brienne, what is it?” She questioned, concerned.

Brienne breathed deeply, unable to contain herself any longer. She lowered her eyes bashfully. “How did you know...you were expecting?” She finished earnestly.

Sansa’s face brightened. “Oh, Brienne.” She exclaimed. “Do you think...you might be...?” It was her turn to be speechless. She was so excited she could not finish. Suddenly thoughts of addressing her plans for Brienne’s oath could wait.

Seeing Sansa’s excitement made Brienne more nervous about her possible condition. “I’m not sure.” She said, breathlessly. “I haven’t felt like myself for a while.” She relayed.

As she studied Brienne’s anxious expression, Sansa realized that losing her mother at such a young age, and devoting her life to the fight had left Brienne completely unprepared for the more delicate aspects of her womanhood. Sansa was unused to being the most experienced female in the room. Understanding that her zealousness might make Brienne even more apprehensive, she calmed herself and attacked the issue the way Winterfell’s maester had when she had brought her suspicions to him.

“In what’s ways are you feeling...unusual?” Sansa inquired.

Brienne swallowed the nervous lump in her throat. “Well, I’m nauseous. My stomach is upset all the time. I can barely eat.”

“Have you vomited at all.” Sansa asked.

“No.” Brienne told her. Sansa knew that did not necessarily mean anything. Her own lady mother had not been sick a day with any of her children, while she herself could barely keep food down during her entire pregnancy. She simply nodded her understanding.

“I am quite fatigued.” Brienne continued. “I cannot remember ever being so tired, so often.” She said.

Sansa tilted her head to one side. “I suppose that could still be the lingering effects of your battle wounds.” She considered, and decided to add a few questions of her own.

“Forgive my candor.” Sansa blushed. “But are your breasts sore?” She coerced.

Brienne concurred with a quick lift of her chin. “Excruciating.” She agreed.

Sansa could not contain her growing excitement. She reached out merrily with her free hand and took hold of Brienne’s arm. She breathed in hopefully, and looked fervently into Brienne’s eyes. “Have you bled?” She almost whispered.

Brienne’s face grew stricken with fear, knowing what that sign almost assuredly meant. “Not since just before the battle, at Eastwatch.” She swallowed hard.

“That was over two months ago!” Sansa wanted to shout in shocked disbelief. She was almost certain now that her suspicions were correct. “Have you mentioned this to Tormund?” She questioned Brienne.

Brienne shook her head, a little embarrassed. “He has worried over me so much lately.” She lowered her eyes and wrung her fingers. “I did not wish to trouble him if it was nothing.” She confessed. “Or get his hopes up.”

“I understand.” The Queen agreed. “I want our maester to examine you immediately.

Brienne’s face drained of color at the thought. “Is that really necessary?” She squeaked, her face twisting with pained embarrassment.

Sansa looked at her with warm concern. “Yes. To make sure everything is alright.” She saw Brienne’s eyes grow wide, and tried to correct her unintended call for worry. “Oh, I am sure it is. I mean, just to be certain.” She stood and drew Brienne to her feet. “I won’t take no for an answer.” Sansa almost squealed with anticipation. Taking a few steps, she gently placed her sleeping infant down in the child’s cradle.

Taking Brienne by the hand, once more, she rushed out of the tiny nursery. Happy to find her daughter’s nurses returned to her chamber after the girl’s father had vacated it, she ordered the women to take charge of the babe. Sansa’s smile was infectious as she led Brienne along the corridors to the rooms occupied by Winterfell’s maester. Reading Sansa’s reaction, Brienne was now almost certain what the maester would tell her, and for the first time she allowed hope and excitement to creep into her heart.  
————————-  
The maester’s quarters were set off in a quiet private corridor of Winterfell’s inner buildings. Sansa knocked on the door, and held Brienne’s hand firmly trying to calm her. After a few moments a thin elderly man dressed in the traditional robes of the Citadel appeared through the small crack he had opened in the doorway. Realizing it was The Queen in the North who called upon him, the maester snapped to attention and opened the door wider.

“Your Grace.” He stammered. “How may I be of service to you?” He questioned urgently worried for his monarch and her infant.

“Maester Inmain.” Sansa addressed the healer respectfully. “Lady Brienne requires your assistance.” She motioned toward her companion who, despite her towering height, felt as if she were two inches tall.

“Please. Enter.” He stepped back to allow The Queen and the patient entrance to his billet.

Sansa’s hand never left Brienne’s nervous grasp as the maester turned to address her. “Yes. Lady Brienne. What seems to be troubling you?” He asked. His smile was calming and warm and somehow put Brienne at ease.

The lady knight stood dumbfounded, unsure of what to say. Luckily, Sansa was able to speak candidly for her. “Lady Brienne is in need of your...discretion.” Sansa paused and held him in her stare knowingly.

The old man smiled warmly, and nodded. “Of course.” He understood quite well, and was eager to set his patient’s mind at ease.

Maester Inmain stretched out his hand and offered it to Brienne. “If you please, my Lady.” Brienne eyed him for a moment, terrified. Her frightened eyes then darted to Sansa whose encouraging smile gave her strength to take the man’s hand as he led her to his examination table. “If you would, please.” He helped her climb up to sit atop the tall body-length table.

Maester Inmain spoke to Brienne in a manner so reassuring that she began not only to trust him, but to like him. “I know this is uncomfortable.” He began. “I will try to be quick, and as prudent as possible.” He told her. She gestured her acknowledgment of his sentiment but could not speak over the urge to sob. “I will fetch a quilt to cover you. You will need to remove your britches and small cloth.” He informed her.

Brienne gasped. Her eyes wide with dread. Every instinct within her wanted to jump off the table and run from the room. However, Sansa’s calm manner kept her from giving in to her terror. Instead she lay back and tried to calm her breathing as she waited for the maester to return, and his examination to begin.

“Would you like me to stay with you?” Sansa offered sweetly. Brienne nodded through her trembling. The Queen held tight to her hand for support.

Hearing the Maesters footsteps, Brienne’s shaking fingers moved under her tunic to loosen the ties her britches. Reaching her side, the kind elderly man laid the blanket he carried across her hips and legs, and she disrobed. She set her clothing beside her and waited to begin, her heart pounding in her ears.

“Very well then.” He commenced, pulling the quilt down somewhat to expose her lower abdomen. “How long has it been since you have had your moon blood?” He asked.

“About two cycles.” Brienne admitted embarrassed to be discussing such a personal issue with a stranger.

“Hmmm.” Maester Inmain nodded, passing no judgment. Placing his hand just below Brienne’s navel, he began to press lightly on her belly. She winced when she found the pressure to be extremely discomforting, and wished that Tormund were there with her.

The maester continued his pressure as he manipulated the contents of Brienne’s pelvis below his fingers. “Are you having other symptoms?” He inquired?

Brienne was relieved that Sansa answered for her. “She has been nauseous, and her breasts are tender.” She reported gleefully.

He smiled compassionately. “Any fatigue?” He asked.

“Yes.” Brienne answered for herself this time. “I want to sleep all the time.”

“I see.” He said, his grin widening.

Then as he finished, he released his fingers from her abdomen, and turned toward her timidly. “I will need to do an internal examination to be sure.” His tone was almost apologetic.

Brienne tightened her grip in Sansa’s fingers and closed her eyes. Her thanks went to the Gods that she did not have to face this alone. She brought the quilt upward until it covered her face. She wanted to disappear. Dread fell over her like a dark cloud. Brienne could feel the maester return the blanket over her waist, but lift it from her legs. Thankfully, he stopped when it reached mid-thigh length.

“Lift your knees, please.” He said kindly. “And spread your legs apart.” Maester Inmain’s voice was comforting, even in the midst of Brienne’s mortification. His hand was cold as it slid between her legs, to the places only Tormund was allowed to go. This experience was so far from any sensation that her husband gave her that Brienne tried to push Tormund as far from her mind as she could, not wanting there to be any association between the two extremes.

Her body shook in despair as she felt Maester Inmain’s cold finger inside her, searching. He reached up under the quilt and again pressed down on her belly, almost until his fingers met through her skin. She felt that if there were a babe inside her, surely he was hurting it. Her nerves overtook her and she did not hear the tiny squeak that left her throat.

“It’s alright, my dear.” Maester Inmain comforted.

Brienne felt Sansa place her reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Everything is fine, Brienne. You’re doing wonderfully.” Sansa encouraged her.

Suddenly, it was over. The maester removed his probing fingers, and lifted his hand from her belly. He pulled the blanket down around her legs for modesty, and Brienne felt it safe to crawl from the beneath her stitched shield. She pulled the blanket from her face, and looked apprehensively from Maester Inmain to Sansa and back again. She sat up on her elbow, awaiting the outcome.

“My Lady.” The maester smiled happily. “You are with child.”

Brienne felt the breath leave her lungs completely at the news. Maester Inmain recognized the shock on her face, and attempted to provide relief from the uncertainty which he was sure swirled in her mind. He again drew the cover back to reveal her fertile belly. Taking her hand, he laid it atop the skin there.

“You are about two moons along.” He told Brienne. He lightly positioned her fingers and pressed them into her skin until she felt a firm little knot just below her navel. “Do you feel that?” She smiled and nodded in awe. “That is your babe.” He told her, releasing her hand. “It appears that all is well.”

Brienne’s hand remained atop her belly. From somewhere, she did not know where, an overwhelming feeling came upon her. It was so strong she could not put it aside. Suddenly, she was certain that it was a son that burgeoned in her womb. She was sure of it. In a matter of moments her world had shrunken to the tiny little being in her belly. Her heart overflowed with emotion, and tears found her eyes as she stared at her still flat stomach. She wanted this child, Tormund’s child, more than anything.

“Congratulations, My Lady.” Maester Inmain offered, feeling the reverence of the moment.

Brienne could not speak. She smiled at him in disbelief. The joy in her eyes was all the gratitude he needed. He was thrilled at the newfound maternal pride of his patient. “I will give you privacy.” He lowered his eyes and back away, heading for the door.

“Thank you, Maester.” Sansa said happily. The pleasant, heartfelt, sparkle in his eyes told her there was no need. He bowed to them both and then quietly left the room.

Sansa turned back to Brienne who was now sitting up, the quilt wrapped around her body, her legs hanging from the side of the table. “Oh Brienne.” Sansa declared. “I am so happy for you.”

The shock still remained in Brienne’s eyes as she stared at The Queen’s sentiment. She tried to catch her breath, but the fear that had plagued her mind at her maternal abilities returned. She looked down at her hand which now rested atop the blanket over her waist. Her lips trembled with fear, and her chest heaved. She felt wholly inadequate.

Sansa noticed her distress and began to worry. “You...do...” She began apprehensively. “...want this baby? Don’t you?” Sansa questioned.

Brienne looked at Sansa in earnest. “Oh yes. With all of my heart.” She told her Queen.

“Then what’s the matter?” Sansa asked distressed.

Not wanting to confess her deepest fear, she chose to hide behind her duty. “I want to assure you that my marriage and pregnancy will not impede my ability to carry out the oath I made your mother, and to you.” Brienne vowed.

Sansa breathed a relieved sigh. “Oh, Brienne.” She almost laughed. “That is the last thing you need to worry about now.” Sansa assured her. Her own urgentness to speak to Brienne about just that very topic had disappeared from her mind.

Brienne gave a weak smile, and tried to act reassured. However, she still could not look The Queen in the eyes, and her still worried face gave Sansa more cause to worry. “But, there’s more.” Sansa coerced.

Her lip quivering, Brienne looked into the concerned face of her Queen. “Oh, Your Grace.” She could hold her sobs no longer. “How can someone who has known nothing but killing her entire life make a good mother?” She implored, laying her worst fears bare.

Sansa was touched to her very core at the cause of Brienne’s fear. She was desperate to calm the despair she found in one usually so strong and bold. She straightened and spoke with all the regal assuredness her title afforded her. “Brienne.” Sansa started softly, wishing to remind her of her virtues. “You are the bravest, most loyal, most caring person I have ever known. Your kindness is beyond equal.”

She continued, spurred by the glimmer of hope she saw forming in Brienne’s eyes. “You will make the best kind of mother.” She declared to Brienne. “You will be a fierce and brave protector of your children. A mother bear.” She chose to use a reference to the child’s father. Brienne understood and smiled.

Sansa thought of the courage Brienne had exhibited all of her life. “You will instill the best qualities of bravery, loyalty, and justice in your children. You will raise them to be strong and independent. And when it is their time to go out into the world, they will do great things.” She was nearly in tears by the time she finished.

Brienne felt her insecurities melt away at The Queen’s words. Her hopeful smile returned, and she peered at Sansa with gratitude. “Thank you, My Queen.” She choked.

Sansa smiled, and grasped Brienne’s hand once more. “Besides.” She smirked mischievously. “Look at what a wonderful job you’ve done raising Ser Podrick.” She joked. The two women dissolved into laughter.  
————————————  
Brienne redressed quickly while Sansa waited patiently near the door. Her head was still spinning from Maester Inmain’s joyful diagnosis. Once she was ready, the monarch and the lady knight made their way excitedly to the courtyard to find their respective husbands. All Brienne could think of was sharing the happy news with Tormund.

They found the men in the stable. Tormund and Jon were laughing and joking as always. Sandor leaned aloofly against a stall taking in the conversation, scowling as usual. Upon seeing Sansa and Brienne enter Sandor and Tormund visibly brightened and moved toward the ladies, eager to greet their wives. Jon walked behind them still smiling.

“Little Bird.” Sandor began. “Who is with Elinore?” He asked urgently as Sansa wrapped her arms around his waist. He kissed her temple lovingly, though still worried about the welfare of their daughter.

Sansa rolled her eyes with a chuckle. “Her nurses can take care of her for a moment.” She reassured him. “She’s probably still sleeping. They will fetch us if she needs us.” She calmed him with a caring hand laid on his massive chest. He acquiesced, but was still obviously on edge.

Brienne rushed to Tormund and graced him with a long, sweet kiss. “What took so long?” He asked with a smile. “I was about to go find you.” He thought she had the strangest look in her eyes.

Just as she was about answer, and request that Tormund accompany her to their chamber, Brienne felt a terrible wave of nausea overtake her. She did not know if it was was the odor of musky animals in the stables, or the fact that now she knew the cause of her sickness and her body was more willing to react. However, at that moment Brienne could no longer keep down the contents of her stomach. She hurriedly broke from Tormund’s grasp, and rushed behind a stall door for privacy. The sounds of retching were unmistakable.

Tormund raced to Brienne’s side, finding that all he could do was rub her back to comfort her. Sansa grinned shrewdly. Sandor eyed his wife in amazement, remembering only a few months prior when it seemed her vomiting came upon her hourly. Jon stood in total confusion. After a few moments, her stomach empty, Brienne arose and stepped from behind the door gasping for breath, and trying to wipe her mouth with her sleeve.

Worry and bewilderment evident on his face, Tormund brought his arm around Brienne to steady her. “What is it? You’re ill!” He declared concerned as he searched her face.

Brienne took the hand he held out to her, and shook her head. “I’m not ill.” She tried to quiet his fear with a calm smile.

“What then?” He asked again, his face awash with confusion.

Brienne’s expression was calm and loving as she began to pull him toward the door. “I need to speak with you.” She told him. He followed without question.

“Your Grace?” Brienne turned to Sansa and begged her leave.

“Of course.” Sansa beamed, giving her a knowing hopeful wink. Brienne nodded in gratitude and led her still baffled husband from the stable.

When the Giantsbanes had left, Sandor questioned Sansa. “Is she?” He asked shocked.

Sansa smiled with a secret burning in her throat. “I may not be at liberty to say, yet.” She laughed, knowing Sandor could read her every expression.

“What?” Jon asked, still trying to follow the events that had played out before him.

“Well.” Sandor chuckled. “That crazy Wildling did say he wanted to make babies with her.” He laughed.

“Oh.” Jon bent his head back in sudden recognition. “Oh!” His eyes went wide with meaning, as Sansa and Sandor grasped each other laughing.  
————————————  
Once they were shielded behind a closed door, in the privacy of their chamber, Tormund protectively wrapped Brienne in his guarding arms. He kissed her forehead, partly to comfort her, and partly to see if she was feverish. Brienne fitted herself into his sheltering grasp, enjoying his nearness and eager to share the tiny secret she held within.

“Tell me, please.” Tormund begged her. “What is it that is upsetting you?” Were the memories of this place, created for her by another man, truly that devastating for his own wife?

Brienne caressed his jaw, and nestled her face against his. She held him close for a long moment. Her heart wanted to burst with love, not only for him, but now for their child as well. “Nothing is upsetting me.” She assured him. The tears in her eyes would have contradicted her words, but even those fell upon her happy smile.

“I do not understand.” He told her, trying to force all he had seen to make sense.

Brienne took hold of Tormund’s hand and led him to the bed. She bid him to sit. Her request only made him more anxious, but he dutifully complied. Brienne moved into the space between his legs. Holding his hands, she bent to him and kissed his lips lovingly. He found his eyes brimming with tears to match hers in his uncertainty.

Pulling her lips from his, she gazed at him. “I love you.” She declared.

Any other time, Brienne’s display of affection would have had him already peeling off his furs and tackling her to the mattress. He was far too worried about her now to do anything but stare. He tried to smile as he answered her, his voice cracking with emotion. “I love you, too.” He told her. “Please, what is it, then?” He begged.

Unable to bare his worry any longer, and excited to tell him the news, Brienne unlaced the ties of her britches and pulled up the hem of her tunic to reveal her waistline. She lightly took Tormund’s hand and laid it gently atop her still flat abdomen. Holding it there, her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

She swallowed with anticipation, her heart racing. “I carry your child.” Brienne announced, happy tears beginning to flow once more.

Tormund sat, staring at her for a moment, feeling her soft belly now brimming with the life he had put there. His face registered his surprise, which slowly gave way to pure joy. “What? A baby?” He asked, unsure he had heard correctly. Brienne simply nodded her affirmative. “The Maester says I’m two moons along.” Brienne informed him with a sweet proud grin, as she laid her hand over his.

Hesitating no longer, Tormund stood and scooped Brienne into his arms. He let out a howl of pride as he spun her around in a joyful swirl. Suddenly he realized what he had done. Almost as quickly as he had gathered her up, he set her down again much more gently. “I’m sorry.” His face showed his alarm at his actions. “Did I hurt you?” He begged, gently touching her belly.

Brienne laughed out loud. “No.” She beamed. “I’m...We’re fine.” She assured him, her hand softly rubbing her middle.

“Is that what has been troubling you?” He asked lovingly.

“I’m sorry.” She lowered her eyes. “I did not want to tell you until I was sure.”

Tormund pulled Brienne to him. He sunk to his knees before her, regretting that she had faced her uncertainty alone. The relief was evident on his face that her worries had not been caused by the memory of someone else. He lowered his face, and wrapping his arms about her, placed his lips softly against her belly. Then he pressed his ear to her abdomen, straining as if to hear the tiny heartbeat of their child inside his beloved wife. Enjoying his emotions, Brienne cradled his head against her. She felt a joyful tear seep from his eye and run down her skin. They allowed themselves to be lost in their affection for a long while.

Tormund’s eyes grew wide once more, as another worry occurred to him. He bolted to his feet and looked earnestly into her face. “We cannot continue North.” He announced. “We’ll stay here until the baby comes. Until you are both ready to travel.”

Brienne’s face fell, and she stepped back from him. “No.” She argued dejectedly, shaking her head. “I want to go home.” She reminded him, almost pouting.

“I know.” He placated her. “But, now.” He stammered. “You know yourself, that traveling North is strenuous.” He tried his best to appeal to her. “The cold alone...”

The fire flickered in Brienne’s eyes. She would not be swayed. “If I had been born a Free Folk woman, would there even be a question about my returning?” Surely he would see her logic.

Tormund stood for a moment, trying to speak, but finding no reason except emotion for his plea. “Well...No.” He admitted. “But that’s different.”

“How is it different?” Brienne demanded.

“You were born in the south.” He knew he was losing. “You’re used to gentle breezes, and warm sunshine.”

Brienne cocked her head in dismay. “I’m used to sword fighting and battlefields.” She proclaimed. “You’ve said yourself. I am stronger than most Free Folk men.” Her will made her refuse to back down. She attacked again. “You didn’t answer my question. How would my going North now, be any different from a Free Born woman doing the same?”

“Because none of them are my wife.” He nearly shouted. “None of them carry my child in their belly.” Tormund hung his head.

Understanding that Tormund’s fears came from his love and caring for her, Brienne’s anger abated, and she softened her tone. She took his hand and pulled him down to sit with her on the bed. “Look at me.” She implored. He raised his eyes to hers like a hurt puppy, and she wanted to cry for being so hard on him.

“Please, my love.” Brienne began softly, her eyes boring into his. “I want our child to be born in the Real North, in our home, near his sisters, and his people.” She explained. “It’s his heritage. It’s his birthright.”

Tormund chuckled. “His?” He laughed.

Brienne lowered her eyes bashfully, again moving her hand to her waistline. “I don’t know why. I just have this feeling.” She told him, her eyes glistening. “I hold a son in my womb. I am sure of it.” Her tears slid over her eyelids, and slipped down her cheeks.

At that moment, as Tormund reveled in his love for the woman who pleaded before him, he imagined the babe they now shared. He could deny her nothing. “Alright.” He conceded. Brienne could barely contain her excitement. She stretched to plant kisses on his face. He held her back sweetly, not finished with his conditions. “But you have to tell me everything you are feeling, whether you think it’s important or not.” He demanded.

“Oh yes. I promise.” She continued to try to shower kisses over him. “Oh, thank you.” She beamed.

He tried to hold her off but was losing the battle. “I mean it.” He continued his list of criteria. “We stop, when you need to stop. We rest, when you need to rest. We shelter, when you need to shelter. We eat, when you need to eat.” His face was serious, trying to make her understand that he would not allow her to take any chances.

“Of course.” Brienne settled a bit, but held his face gratefully. Her heart was so overcome with love for him, that her body began to follow suit. She had heard that pregnant women often enjoyed an increase in their sexual urges. She was feeling one at that moment. “You know.” She began. “You did forget one requirement on your list.” Her eyes sparkled gleefully, her voice growing sultry.

He began to realize where her thoughts were headed. “What is that?” He asked lowly, moving closer to her.

“We fuck, when I need to fuck!” Brienne laughed, pushing Tormund back on the bed and crawling on top of him, already beginning to collect her due. His thrilled gasp told her that he would most definitely comply.  
—————————————-  
The next morning Queen Sansa had food sent to Brienne and Tormund’s chambers, just as she had the evening before, understanding that they probably desired to be alone. The young servant who delivered their morning meal also came bearing a small piece of parchment from The Queen. Upon it she had sent a question, wondering if she might have the honor of announcing their happy news to the court. She also requested their presence before the Great Hall later that day. Brienne quickly relayed the contents of the note to Tormund and she quilled their joint affirmative.

As the maid left with their reply, Brienne was giddy with excitement. Tormund somehow forced her to settle down and eat something, fearing a repeat of the prior day’s sickness. She had not felt ill that day, but he was not taking any chances. He helped her dress, and she decided to allow his protectiveness.

Later, the couple entered the Great Hall to find the Queen seated upon her throne flanked by her husband and shield, Sandor Clegane on one side, and her brother King Bran on the other. Jon Snow, Lord Tyrion, and Ser Podrick stood at attention a few feet away. Brienne and Tormund approached The Queen, his hand never leaving her back trying to calm the nerves he knew she felt.

Sansa’s face grew even brighter as they approached. She stood when they drew nearer. “Ser Brienne, Tormund.” She smiled. They lowered their heads in respect. “Please allow me to express my congratulations, on the impending birth of your first child.” Sansa beamed. Tyrion’s and Podrick’s mouths dropped open in amazement. They had not been there to witness the scene in the stables the day before, and were now caught completely by surprise. Their shock soon gave way to smiles, seeing the parents-to-be accept Sansa’s well wishes with delight.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Brienne acknowledged shyly, while Tormund puffed like a proud rooster, and winked at Jon.

“You, no doubt have imagined, that I did not ask you to join us only to share your good news.” Sansa continued. “Ser Brienne.” The Queen paused as Brienne moved slightly ahead. “It is the matter of your oath to my family that I wish to address.”

The breath caught in Brienne’s throat, as she feared what might be the outcome of the discussion. “Of course, Your Grace.” She steeled herself bravely, knowing that behind her Tormund was bristling. Surely Queen Sansa would not ask something of her that would put her unborn child in jeopardy.

Seeing the apprehension on their faces, Sansa was eager to continue. Her face warmed as she predicted their reaction to what she was about to say. “Ser Brienne.” She began. “You swore an oath to my Lady Mother.” Brienne nodded. “An oath of service and protection to the Stark family.” Sansa continued. “I have discussed this matter with my brother, King Bran, and he concurs with my decision.” Bran nodded thoughtfully beside her. Brienne could barely hear The Queen over her beating heart. She could almost feel Tormund breathing heavily, only inches from her now.

Sansa moved closer to her former sworn sword. “Your service to the Stark family, to Winterfell, and to the North has been above and beyond the call of duty. You have upheld your oath with the utmost honor and courage. We are privileged to have had you as our protector.” Sansa smiled graciously.

“As The Queen in the North, and as a Stark, I now fully and freely release you from that oath.” Sansa could barely fight back her tears. “You have done yourself, your house, and your name proud. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I know that my Lady Mother would agree.”

It seemed to Brienne as though the world were spinning under her feet. She felt Tormund wrap his arm around her waist, and she stared at The Queen, too choked with emotion to speak. Her oath had been everything to her. She had done her best to uphold it. The praise that Sansa gave her was better than all of the riches in Westeros.

“Your Grace.” Brienne stammered. “It has been my honor.” She said sincerely.

At last, Sansa closed the short distance between them, and reached to take her hand. “Brienne.” She said smiling at her. “You are more than just my sword. You are my friend.” She gave Brienne the highest compliment she could pay. For a young woman who trusted so few to call her friend attested to the esteem in which The Queen held her.

“I have one last request of you.” Sansa ventured.

“Anything.” Brienne promised.

“That you go with your husband, and build a happy and blessed life. I wish for you, the best of everything.” Breaking with royal protocol, Sansa embraced Brienne warmly as the taller woman bent to meet her gesture. Tormund beamed with pride and gratitude watching Brienne.

“We will, Your Grace.” Brienne swore. “Thank you.”  
—————————————  
A few days later Sansa, Sandor, Jon, and the others in attendance at Winterfell gathered in the courtyard to bid farewell to Brienne and Tormund as they prepared to venture North, to the life that awaited them there. The horses were saddled and ready. Fresh supplies were piled in their packs. Even through his nervousness Tormund was eager to get underway, and have Brienne safe and sound.

Jon was the first to bid them farewell. “Brienne.” He smiled, embracing her warmly. “Take care of yourself.” He told her. “And this old man, too.” He snickered as Tormund pulled Jon from Brienne and nearly crushed him in a bear hug. Brienne laughed and watched the merriment.

“You coming with us back North, boy?” Tormund asked jokingly.

“No.” Jon laughed. “You don’t want me tagging along.” He grinned.

“You’re right.” Tormund conceded.

“Besides I want to wait for the next raven from Arya.” Jon admitted. “She and Gendry decided to follow the coast for awhile after their wedding. They’re ready to venture out to open waters, and she promised she’d send a raven before they sailed on. It should be coming any day.” He smiled hopefully.

“Please give her our regards.” Brienne requested happily.

“I will.” Jon bowed.

Sansa and Sandor walked out into the courtyard from the Great Hall to join the well wishers, Elinore nestled warmly in her mother’s arms. They were followed by Bran, pushed along in his wheelchair by the new shield Ser Podrick had personally chosen. Clad proudly in Kingsguard armor, Pod walked beside them with Lord Tyrion.

Tormund bounded up to Sandor and jabbed him on the arm. “You haven’t congratulated me yet, Clegane!” He said acting hurt.

Sandor scowled. “For what? Knocking up your own wife?” He rolled his eyes. “Not much talent in that.” He sneered gruffly.

“Sandor!” Sansa scolded him. She eyed him, and cradled Elinore closer as if she was the injured party.

Clegane rolled his eyes, and surrendered again to his wife’s will. He turned back to Tormund. “I guess you are going get those giant monster babies.” It was all the compliment Sandor Clegane intended to give.

Recalling the declaration of love for Brienne, he had made to Clegane when they had gone North of the Wall to capture one of those dead creatures, Tormund was touched that the feral old dog remembered how he had described his future children. “You do care!” Tormund howled with laughter. Sansa could not contain her own mirth beside them.

“Take care of her.” Sansa bid Tormund.

“With my life.” He bowed his head.

When all the goodbyes had been said, and all preparations concluded, Tormund helped Brienne atop her horse. Then, retrieving the reins of his own mount, he tied them to her saddle and straddled up behind her. With a final wave, the horse was nudged into motion. Tormund opened the thick fur he had tied across his waist and wrapped it around Brienne. She leaned back against him and sighed comfortable and content, as he laid one hand protectively over her belly. They rode slowly through the open gate, and on northward. Brienne was asleep before Winterfell was out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end. There is still more to come.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In their tiny hut in The Real North, Brienne and Tormund's baby is born while a blizzard rages outside.

Brienne’s laboring began late in the morning of a day that promised a blizzard. She had been standing at the sideboard in the tiny hut she shared with Tormund, preparing bread for the family’s midday meal when her swollen pregnant belly began to twist with a painful cramp. Dropping the knife she was holding, Brienne gasped loudly. She brought one hand up to cradle her large rounded abdomen through her thick woolen gown. She had months ago, for comfort, begun to wear a loose roomy frock instead of her britches. With her other hand she grabbed the table top, squeezing the wooden slab as hard as she could to brace against the pain.

Munda and Anya had come to stay with them during Brienne’s last moon of pregnancy. The girls’ mothers thought they might be of help to Brienne during that time. Tormund was glad that there were extra eyes to watch over his wife as her time grew near, and Brienne was thrilled they would be close when the baby was born. The girls were a welcome addition to their little home. Life was peaceful and happy as everyone awaited the arrival of their new addition.

It was Munda who noticed Brienne’s pain first. She ran to her, alarmed. “Brienne.” The girl yelled. “Is it the baby?” She questioned nervously.

Brienne could only nod and reach to grasp Munda’s outstretched hand, as Anya came running up beside them. “Get Papa!” Munda urgently ordered her little sister, as she squeezed Brienne’s curled fingers. The younger girl’s eyes grew wide. She turned quickly and was running before she reached the doorway.

Outside, Tormund was splitting firewood in the falling snow to ensure that their hut was kept warm for Brienne and the baby. Anya screamed for him as she came bounding out of the little skin house. “Papa!” Her voice echoed over the crisp white ground.

The full force of the contraction was hitting Brienne as Tormund reached her. The pain of it bent her over, and she groaned against it. She clutched at her belly trying desperately to make it stop. Tormund grabbed her hand, and could only rub her back as she winced in pain. With fearful eyes she finally looked at him as the wave of pain began to subside.

Gasping for her breath, she straightened a bit, and tried to smile. “I think it might be time.” Brienne said, trembling.  
———————————  
The past months had been the happiest Brienne had ever known. She never dreamed she could be so content. Her heart swelled as her belly did the same. She was certain their had never been a more loving, concerned, or doting father in all of the Seven Kingdoms than Tormund. He would barely allow her to lift a finger. Brienne swore he had not removed his hands from her expanding abdomen for longer than a moment since she had told him she was carrying his child. She loved him, and she loved the babe she was about to bring into the world.

They had settled back into life in their home in The North as if they had never left. The little hut for which Brienne had yearned so desperately while she on Tarth, was soon teeming with activity. Friends, and fellow villagers visited to welcome them home, and congratulate them on the approaching arrival of their child. Jon was a constant and cherished fixture, one of the family. Munda and Anya were as helpful to her as their father, and a source of immeasurable joy. Brienne could not have loved them more if they were her own flesh and blood. This life of domestic bliss was everything she never knew, she always wanted.

As the days glided by Brienne soon found that her favorite times were the nights. When the darkness settled over the land and the world grew quiet, she and Tormund would lay together in their warm bed and delight in each other. As the baby grew and Brienne’s body began to feel the effects of carrying another human within, she relished taking the pressure from her bones and nestling into the warm furs beside him, her heavy belly resting against the support of his body. Tormund would wrap himself around her and trace circles on her abdomen until his hands came to rest atop her, where they would wait until he felt their child kick his palms through Brienne’s skin. The happy couple would laugh, and sigh together until, Brienne drifted off to sleep. Tormund would lay awake long into the night enjoying feeling the strong movements of his child in Brienne’s belly. Often she would awaken to either see him smiling over her, or to find her neck wet from the joyful tears he had shed. Those nights would usually drift into passionate love making that would end with them both exhausted. Brienne would then turn on her side, and Tormund would wrap her protectively in his arms, his hands returning to rest over their baby. They were both excited and eager for their child to join their happy life.  
————————————————-  
As the first pain of her labor subsided, Tormund eased Brienne down onto one of the chairs beside the little table where the family took their meals. Finally able to catch her breath, Brienne tried to make her face exhibit the bravery she did not feel. Her shaking hand still held tight to his. It had not been the most terrible pain she had ever felt, but she knew it would grow much worse. She tried to keep her mind in the present and not think about the ordeal that lay ahead of her.

“Girls, go fetch the midwife. Before the snowfall gets worse.” Tormund ordered Munda and Anya urgently. He knew there was a blizzard coming, and wanted the old woman there soon. The girls were eager to bring help for Brienne, and before his words had left his lips they were already heading toward their heavy furs which hung on the wall by the doorway.

“No, no.” Brienne held up her hand, her tone trying to alleviate their worry. The midwife, Vrenna, had visited daily during the final moon of her pregnancy to examine her, and had explained what she could expect. “Remember what Vrenna said.” She tried to calm them. “It could be a while before I feel another pain.” The old woman had delivered most of the babies in the village, and Brienne would have been more comfortable if she were nearby. However she also understood that help would hopefully not be needed until later.

“But we need to get someone here who knows what she’s doing.” Tormund begged, kneeling down beside Brienne. His nervousness was getting the better of him. This would be the first of his children at whose birth he would be present. He had been a young rowdy warrior when both of the girls were born, and there had been too much fighting to do. He swore he would not miss seeing the babe he had created with Brienne taking the first breath of life. He was desperate to get his wife the help she needed.

Brienne smiled and touched his face. “Everything will be alright.” She was uncertain if her words were for him, or for herself. She looked at the girls, and gave them a brave smile. She was glad they were there. “Now, everyone sit down, and we’ll eat.” She motioned toward the table.

Munda and Anya looked at their father, unsure what to do. He nodded his approval. “Alright.” Anya agreed. “But we’ll finish preparing the meal.” She demanded.

Tormund sat down next to Brienne, never taking his hand or his eyes from hers. Brienne had already seen to it that the food was nearly ready. The girls scooped the roots she had boiled into bowls, and brought pieces of bread to the table. The family ate quietly, and tried to be cheerful despite their anxiety. Brienne ate little and attempted to hide the fact that she was sick to her stomach. Vrenna had told her that might happen, and she tried not to worry. Tormund noticed, and kept a wary eye on her.

Brienne had been correct. Her next pain did take some time to arrive, but not as long as she thought it might. Once their meal was over, the family cleaned up the vestiges together. Brienne stood heavily, and shuffled to the fire to put away the leftovers, her hand supporting her back which was starting to ache. Just as she was reaching for the ladle, her belly clenched again. She drew in a sharp breath, and tried to hold it to overcome the pain mounting in her lower body. Tormund, who had not been more than a step behind her, saw her reaction and raced to place his comforting arms around her. She gratefully grabbed hold of his forearms and let out a low groan as the full force of the contraction hit her. Tormund helped her stand as her legs buckled. He held her close as her body fought against her. When she began to relax, Brienne laid her head on his shoulder. Finally, she was able to inhale a deep breath fully into her lungs.

Brienne looked at Tormund lovingly and tried to give him a brave smile. “Stay with me.” She begged. She knew that if they had been in the South he would have already been ushered from her side.

He squeezed her a little tighter, and looked deep into her eyes. “Fire breathing fucking dragons couldn’t drag me away from you right now,” he vowed, assuring her as he kissed her temple. They chuckled together for a brief moment, both understanding his reference.

As the afternoon passed, Brienne’s labor progressed steadily. She tried to keep herself occupied so her thoughts would not race ahead of her body. The girls tidied the little house, and then helped Brienne set out the clean linens and blankets she thought she might need for her delivery. Tormund had lovingly made a small wooden cradle just tall enough to sit at their bedside. This was the luxurious version of the small beds used by most Free Folk parents for their babes. If they had been on Tarth, the baby would have had an opulent bassinet. Tormund swore that his child would rest in finest bed in the North. Brienne’s heart melted when he presented his gift to her. Now, together they prepared the soft feather tick that would line the bottom, upon which they would place their child. Inside the cradle, they laid a tiny new quilt that Brienne had sewn, and a fluffy white snow fox fur that Tormund had hunted and tanned.

Her pains were coming sooner, lasting longer, and gripping her harder as each hour passed. Whenever one would seize her body, Brienne would try valiantly to breathe through the spasms and steel herself against them, but she could not keep the desperate pain-filled moans from her escaping throat. Tormund did his best to be her rock, but he was himself terrified. Brienne’s own mother had succumbed to the trial of childbirth. He would not allow even the ghost of the image of his own beloved wife losing her battle to enter his brain. He held Brienne as strongly or softly as she needed him to, as she clung to him in her agony. He whispered words into her ears to strengthen her resolve, and gave her his steady hands to grip when she could almost hold on no longer. She knew he was afraid, just as she was, but she realized he was not letting her see his fear. It gave her the courage to face her worsening labor.

As Brienne and Tormund finished dressing their baby’s cradle, a exceptionally strong contraction seized her belly. Tormund engulfed Brienne in his arms and eased her down onto their bed. He sat beside her, helpless. Her hands clutched the roundness of her abdomen. Her eyes were frantic and her breathing grew shallow. As the height of the pain gripped her, she collapsed against Tormund and wailed into his shoulder. He held her tight and close as if he could take the pain from her. Across the room Anya and Munda hung onto each other, their worry growing.

Finally, it ended once more. Brienne was already growing weak and tired. Her thighs were sore from the contractions traveling down her legs. She gave Tormund a pleading look. “Could you rub my legs, please?” She whispered. He snapped into action, kneeling in front of her. He ran his hands up under her skirt, and firmly massaged her thighs, as she leaned back on her hands and closed her eyes. She sighed in pleasure as he worked the knots from her muscles. “Thank you.” Brienne gasped in relief.

“Whatever you need, My Love.” Tormund smiled up at her. Brienne stoked his jaw, and looked at him dreamily. Just his presence was helping her more than he realized.

For a few moments, Brienne’s body returned to her once more. Her starving lungs filled as she was at last able to breathe deep. She nodded at Tormund, who helped her stand. Relaxing a bit, she gratefully took the hand that he offered. They had taken only a few steps away from the bed when Brienne froze. Confused, and afraid, Tormund could only stare at her. Brienne’s eyes grew wide as she felt a warm flow of liquid fall from between her legs and splatter in a pool on the floor around her feet.

Tormund could barely keep his grip on the calm he had been faking for hours. “Brienne, what is it?” He held onto her, looking down alarmed. “Is it the baby?” He asked frantically.

Brienne remembered what Vrenna had told her about the fluid that surrounded the baby and how she had said that it would rupture when her time was near. “No.” She soothed her husband. “My water broke.” She smiled nervously. “But, it means I will bring the baby soon.” She tried to calm her racing breath. “I think we need to get the midwife.” She told him.

Unable to contain his anxiety any longer, Tormund’s head was spinning. At that moment he could barely remember the way to Vrenna’s hut, much less determine how he would get there and back in time. “Girls.” His attentions went to Munda and Anya who had been cowering near the fire. “Come and see to Brienne.” He ordered, motioning for them to take her hands.

It was Munda who faced him with a stone glare. “No.” She insisted.

“Munda.” Her father frowned at her. “We don’t have time for this. I have to go.” His voice was growing agitated.

Munda would not move. “We’ll go.” She motioned for Anya to join her. “You need to stay here with Brienne. She needs you.” Munda raised her chin defiantly as her little sister stepped up beside her, eager to help.

Tormund shook his head forcefully. “No.” He answered. “There’s a blizzard out there.” The weather had grown more violent throughout the day. They had heard the wind outside the hut circling like an animal. “You can’t even see five paces ahead of you.”

Even through her distress, Brienne was not willing to risk their safety. She turned to Tormund and shook her head insistently. “No.” She interjected. “It’s too dangerous.” She whispered breathlessly.

“Papa.” Munda stared at Tormund hopefully, trying to make him see reason. “You need to be here.” She was not backing down. “We can do this. Trust us.” She begged.

“Please, Papa.” Anya implored him with hopeful eyes. “We can do this.” She smiled eagerly and echoed her sister.

Still in his arms, Brienne lowered her head and let out a dreadful whimper as she felt another spasm beginning. Uncertainty filled Tormund’s mind as he pictured the possible outcomes of either actions. If he left them to watch over Brienne, they might be the only ones to help her if the baby came faster than expected. If he let them go, they could be lost in the blinding snow. He could not bare the thought of welcoming one child, but losing two others. He knew his daughters were tough and capable, but the risk plagued him. He felt Brienne shutter in his grip. Her breathing again became short gasps. He knew she was fighting not to cry out with pain.

“Papa, please!” Munda nearly shouted. He had never seen such boldness and courage in her eyes before. She was not simply asking for him to let her help. She was asking for him to treat her like the adult she was becoming. She reminded him of himself. He had to give her this.

“Alright.” He half heartedly agreed. “But do not take any chances. If it’s too bad, you come straight back.” He ordered them.

Munda’s face brightened as she strode to the hook upon which her fur hung. Anya followed, excited to be included in this great responsibility. After securing their outer coats, the girls quickly pulled on their boots, and jammed their hands into their thick fur gloves.

“Girls.” Brienne stopped them before they could leave, her face shining with pride and gratitude beneath her fatigue. “Please, be careful.” Munda nodded, giving her a brave comforting smile. Then she grabbed her little sister, and bolted for the door before their father could change his mind.

“Hold onto each other!” Tormund yelled after them as they secured the skin flap doorway behind them.

Brienne leaned heavily against him and looked worriedly into his troubled eyes. “They’ll be alright,” Tormund told her, placing his hand lovingly over her belly. He hoped he could be sure of his own declaration. He kissed her head, and felt their baby move inside her.

Brienne breathed deeply and nodded. She knew he was worried about the girls. She would be as brave as she could, so he would not need to worry about her too, even though she knew he would. She brought her lips to his, and kissed him. He allowed himself to focus on just how good she tasted.

When their lips parted, she smiled sweetly. “Would you help me change my clothes?” She asked, knowing he would.

“I would love to.” He told her gently.

Tormund took Brienne carefully by the elbows, and led her to stand next to the fire so she would stay warm. He slipped her loose dress over her head, making sure the wet parts did not touch her. Pulling her soaking small cloth downward, he gave Brienne his shoulders to support herself as she kicked free of it. Tormund wadded up her garments and left them near the fire. Grabbing a clean rag from the pile they had set out earlier, he kneeled down to wipe off the fluid that had trailed down Brienne’s legs. Then he stood and looked at her unsure what to do next. Brienne smiled and pointed to the shift she had already layed out at the foot of their bed. He stepped quickly to fetch it as she regarded him. The brave face that he wore was giving her courage to get through this.

When he returned to her side, he slid the soft fabric down her long, but swollen body. “How’s that?” He asked softly.

“Perfect.” She smiled. Her hands slid up to hold his face. She looked at him for a moment, grateful for his presence. Finally she spoke. “Thank you.” Brienne’s eyes began to brim with tears.

“For what?” He asked, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

Brienne’s voice choked with emotion as she found words to voice her gratitude. “I don’t know what I would do without you here.” She whispered. “I don’t think I could do this without you.” She confessed.

Tormund held her face to his. “Oh no.” He corrected her, with a wide grin. “I should be thanking you.” He breathed, the tears in his eyes matching hers. “You have given...” he began, and then looked adoringly down at her belly, softly running his hand over her abdomen. “You are giving me everything I ever wanted.” He stared into her eyes, his heart bursting. “You are my whole world.” His smile was so warm and filled with contentment that Brienne forget for moment about her labor. “I love you.” He swore.

Brienne focused her tired eyes on him. “I love you, too.” She declared. Her hand went instinctively to her middle. “And I love our baby.” She sighed.

“Me too.” He drew her closer and kissed her again.

Before they could finish affirming their feelings, Brienne drew in a sharp breath, and flinched as she felt another pain begin to take hold. She collapsed against Tormund, dreading the moments to come. “I think I’d like to lie down, now.” She informed him.

Tormund reacted quickly. He held Brienne close, and walked her to the bed. Pulling back the furs, he helped her sit and gently guided her head down to rest on the pillow. He helped her lift her legs onto the mattress, as she began to groan with the intensity of the contraction. He sat beside her, worry lining his face. She squeezed his hand to center herself. As it worsened Brienne drew in upon herself and rocked to a silent rhythm.

When the pain began to subside, Tormund left Brienne’s side only long enough to fill a bowl with cool water and pick up a clean rag. Returning to sit next to Brienne on the edge of the bed, he soaked the cloth in the water, and wiped her face with it. She gave him a weak smile only long enough to catch her breath before her body was wracked with agony once more.

“Tell me a story.” Brienne begged. “To take my mind off it.” Her jaws clenched and her lungs struggled for breath.

He quickly searched his mind. Trying to find something monumental enough to draw her thoughts from giving birth to their child. He began with a stammer, still uncertain what his tale would begin. Then he thought of how strong and skilled she was, and how her prowess on the battlefield could not be rivaled. Finally, he launched into the best animated retelling he could manage of the battle with Ramsay Bolton’s forces. Brienne smiled a bit when he described his role in the melee. Before he reached the culmination of his great tale Brienne’s back began to throb from her sore muscles. She rolled away from him onto her side. Her face toward the opposite wall. Tormund stopped, unsure whether he should continue.

“I’m listening.” Brienne encouraged through closed eyes.

Tormund continued, trying to sound as descriptive as he had before. While he wove his story, he firmly rubbed Brienne’s back. She groaned, but this time it was with relieved gratitude. She nodded her approval. Just as he finished telling about the glorious victory, Munda and Anya came bounding through the doorway.

Tormund breathed a sigh of relief, happy for the girls’ safe return. He stood to greet them. Then he realized, they were the only ones who had returned. “Where is Vrenna?” He asked firmly. Perhaps they had not been able to reach her.

“She wasn’t there.” Anya reported urgently.

Munda finished hanging up her fur, and turned to face her father. “Her man said she was delivering another baby.” She told him, troubled. Her worry grew when she saw Brienne lying helpless in the bed. “He said he would send her when she returned.”

“And how long will that be?” Tormund questioned, directing his frustration more to the air than to his daughter.

“He didn’t know.” Munda mirrored his irritation. Tormund nodded gruffly, understanding that they may be on their own in helping Brienne deliver the baby.

They all sat with Brienne long into the night, taking turns swabbing her sweat soaked forehead, and holding her shaking hands. She could no longer tell where one pain stopped and the next one started. She could not control the loud cries, the terrified sobs, or the weak whimpers that escaped her throat. Tormund was nearly mad with worry. The only thing he could do was to sit with Brienne and rub soothing circles over her belly. She did her best to make him think it was helping, but he knew it was not.

In the wee hours of the morning, as she felt the strain and pressure of her babe moving further downward, Brienne arched her back and clutched her belly even harder. She pinched her eyes shut and threw her head back, grabbing Tormund’s hand desperately.

“Where’s the midwife?” She begged through gritted teeth.

Tormund could only hold her hand and try to ease her fear. “She’s coming. She’ll be here soon.” He told her, although he was not certain of his own words.

Finally, only a few minutes later, Vrenna knocked on the doorframe of their little hut, untied the flap, and walked inside not waiting to be invited. She threw her heavy cloak off her shoulder to Anya, and began to make her way toward Brienne. Her face was tired, but the seriousness of her gate made it clear that her patient was the only thing with which she was concerned.

Standing angrily, Tormund blocked her way. “Where in the Hells have you been?” He seethed at her, only barely able to contain his full fury. Brienne simply watched the midwife approached, relieved to see her at last.

Vrenna raised her eyebrows at Tormund and took a defensive stance. “Brienne’s not the only woman in this village having a baby today.” She informed him haughtily.

Tormund leaned forward to emphasize his point. “As far as I’m concerned, she is!” He shot back.

“Be careful how you speak to me, or I’ll turn right around and you can deliver this babe yourself!” She warned.

“No!” Brienne yelled from the bed, trying to sit up to stop Vrenna from leaving. “Please.” She begged.

Turning her face to her patient, Vrenna’s tone and expression softened. She nudged past Tormund and took Brienn’s outstretched hand. She brushed her hair back and tried to soothe her. “Don’t you worry.” The old lady told her kindly. “I just had to put this one in his place.” She pointed her thumb over her shoulder at Tormund and rolled her eyes. “I’ll not be leaving ya.” She patted Brienne’s hand.

Brienne settled back against the pillow, still gasping against the pain, as Vrenna swiped aside the fur under which she lay and began to lift the shift she wore. “Now, lets see where you are.” She smiled. Brienne winced as Vrenna began to probe her belly, feeling for the position of the baby.

“He’s moved down in my hips.” Brienne told her. “I can feel it.” She said.

Vrenna grinned at Brienne’s description. “You still think it’s going to be a boy.” She asked.

Brienne stole a glance at Tormund, who stood watching her protectively over Vrenna’s shoulder. “I’m sure of it.” She tried to smile.

Vrenna nodded and pushed Brienne’s knees upward. “I have to check where the head is.” The midwife told her as she slid her skillful fingers inside her. Brienne gasped and bit her lip at the discomfort. Laying there exposed, Brienne was surprised that she wasn’t embarrassed, but she realized she no longer cared. She just wanted the baby out of her.

“You’re fully opened, and the baby is starting to come down.” Vrenna smiled at her. “Are feeling the urge to push yet?” She asked.

“No.” Brienne shook her head.

“Soon.” Vrenna told her knowingly. “The first thing we have to do is get you out of this bed.” She ordered.

Brienne eyes widened. “No. I can’t.” She protested.

Vrenna nodded as if to tell her there was no use to argue. “You need to get up and walk around. It will help bring the baby faster.” She took Brienne by the arms and started to pull her up. Brienne objected with a loud wail from the pain of another contraction.

Already on edge, Tormund stepped forward and took his wife from Vrenna’s grasp. However, he did not refuse the woman’s orders. He gently helped Brienne to stand and tried to steady her on her feet. Slowly and carefully, he began to walk in circles with her around the room. Brienne gasped and cried. Unable to stand up straight, she held onto Tormund’s arms like a life line.

“Munda, Anya.” Vrenna commanded at the girls who were trying their best to hide. “You’re not going to be shrinking in the corner. Come here and help me.” She demanded.

The girls timidly did as they were told. They assisted Vrenna in laying out the items she might need for the delivery. Their eyes grew wide and worried when they saw knives and cutting sheers. She then instructed them to lay a clean fur on the ground near the fire, and cover it with a quilt.

“Why are we laying it here?” Anya questioned.

“Because this is where Brienne will birth her babe.” Vrenna answered nonchalantly.

Nearby, still tucked in Tormund’s arms, Brienne heard the comment. Her head shot around to glare at Vrenna. “What?” She yelled. “I can’t have my baby on the ground.” She nearly screamed, appalled.

“You can’t lay on that soft bed to do it.” Vrenna informed her, pointing to the warm source of comfort in which Brienne had hoped to bring her baby into the world. “You won’t be able to push hard enough.” Vrenna nodded her head, satisfied with her choice. “Here will do just fine.”

As if the fates had heard that all was ready, at that moment Brienne’s face contorted in agony. “Help me down.” She ordered her husband.

“What? Where?” Tormund questioned, determined to take Brienne to where she saw fit to deliver the baby.

Brienne urgently pointed to the little flat pile Vrenna had created. “Here. Right here.” She pleaded. “I need to push. Now.” She tensed, the pressure building within her belly was overwhelming. “Oh Gods! It’s coming!” Brienne cried.

Tormund eased Brienne down gently onto the quilt covered fur. She panted and gasped against the burning need in her body.

“You.” Vrenna pointed at Tormund. “Sit her up and kneel behind her.” She commanded. “Give her something solid to lean against.” She finished as she turned her attentions back to Brienne.

“Pull your knees up.” She instructed. “When the next pain begins push down against it as hard you can.” She told her, calmly.

Brienne nodded her understanding, and reached for Tormund’s hands. He took hers gladly. She began to squeeze as the contraction started. Brienne’s face grew frantic as the pain mounted.

“Take a deep breath.” Vrenna ordered. She watched Brienne comply. “Now, Push.” The midwife directed. Brienne did as she was told. She drew in a large breath, held it, and forced her muscles down against the baby.

“Push!” Tormund echoed to Brienne. She groaned her answer.

Brienne tried to stop when she ran out of air, only to hear Vrenna order her to take another breath and keep pushing. Again, she gritted her teeth and complied. She felt a little movement, and her body began to burn as the baby moved downward. When the spasm subsided, she was left aching and searching for breath.

“Very good.” Vrenna smiled in encouragement. Brienne looked up at Tormund. He smiled at her through his worry, and kissed her forehead.

Only a few short moments later, Brienne began to tense again as another pain started. She heard the others giving orders and encouragement, as she breathed, and pushed, and moaned again. However, this time they seemed far away as she focused on her work. She barely felt Vrenna’s fingers enter her again, checking on the baby’s position. Over and over the pattern repeated until her body was burning with so much pain, and she was so exhausted, that she feared she might never get the baby out.

Collapsing back against Tormund, Brienne searched for his face in the haze that was overtaking her. Finding his concerned eyes, she cried. “I don’t think I can do this.” She told him weeping, her chest heaving for air.

“Yes, you can.” He told her. She was strong and brave and he would not let her lose hope. Not now. “You’re Brienne of Fucking Tarth!” He reminded her. Brienne shook her head and tried to catch her breath, not even trying to push as a contraction took hold. She was practically in shock from the pain.

“Girls. Come here.” Vrenna called for Munda and Anya. When they nervously approached, she motioned for them to kneel on either side of her in front of Brienne’s upbent knees. They looked to Brienne and to their father to affirm that such an intimate vantage point was acceptable. Both nodded their agreement.

“You’re both going to help me.” Vrenna smiled at them. Seeing their apprehensive expressions she turned firm. “I won’t have you sitting here quaking in fear. You’ll both be doing this soon enough, and you need to learn what’s what.” She told them firmly. “Besides Brienne needs you to be brave, she needs your help.”

Again Vrenna turned a kind smile to Brienne. “You’ve grown a big baby.” She said happily. “Now let’s get him out of ya.” Brienne nodded, feeling the urge to push begin to take over again.

To Tormund, Vrenna directed. “Put your hands under her knees and pull them back hard when she pushes. It will open her hips and give her more room to get the baby out.” He reluctantly let go of her hands, and leaned forward to grasp the back sides of her bent knees.

“I’m going to push down on your belly with my hands as you push.” Vrenna told Brienne. “It won’t be the most comfortable thing in the world, but it will help.” Brienne understood, but needed to push again. Vrenna discerned the urgency in her eyes. “Ok. Deep Breath.” Again, her patient did as she was told. “Push!” She ordered.

As Brienne pushed again, Tormund pulled her knees back, and Vrenna forced the baby downward. The pain was nearly more than she could bare, and she cried out in misery. However, she did not give up. She kept her pushing strong. She needed to get her baby out. She needed it to end. Again and again she strained until it seemed her body had taken over and she was following its orders. She burned and moaned in agony as the baby’s head began to stretch her wide open. She pushed with all she had.

“The head’s coming out.” Vrenna told her, she was no longer smiling either.

Brienne could hear Tormund’s voice telling her to push. She felt his strong hands pulling her knees back, helping her to bring their child into the world. She focused on him like a beacon. He was the force that was driving her, over and beyond the commands of her body. He was her very life. With one shaking hand squeezing his forearm, and the other twisting the sleeve of his tunic into a knot, she did as he told her. She knew that everything would be alright while he was with her. With a forceful push, and a near scream, Brienne felt her baby’s head emerge from her body. She lay back against Tormund gasping through the pain.

Vrenna reached for a small clean cloth and handed it to Munda. “Here,” she told the wide-eyed girl to hold it between Brienne’s legs. “You’re going to catch the baby.” The woman smiled.

Munda shook her head. “Me?” She questioned shocked. “I can’t...What if I hurt it?” She quivered.

“Nonsense.” Vrenna scoffed. “You’re not going to hurt it. Now get ready.” She said, seeing Brienne’s body beginning to take over once more.

Brienne leaned her head back against Tormund and drew in a deep breath. Then, she lowered her chin forward to her chest and pushed with all her might, she was so close and she knew it. Her body was on fire, and she thought she might be tearing, but she did not stop. She could not.

“That’s it.” Vrenna smiled.

“Push!” Tormund tried to help her. “Push!” He wanted her agony to be over.

Munda’s dread turned into excitement, and a happy smile found her face as she watched the baby slowly emerge. “Oh Brienne.” She declared. “It’s almost here. Push!” She cheered.

“Push!” Anya joined her sister in her encouragement, as she watched at Vrenna’s shoulder.

No pain had ever been so intense, yet so sweet. Brienne was nearly delirious, as the trauma of her ordeal began to overtake her efforts. Her body had long since taken over and she was not in control as her muscles worked forcefully to give birth. Finally, her raw throat expelled a violent scream as the last inches of her baby left her body. Then wondrously, Brienne’s own pain ravaged voice was replace by the sweet sound of her child’s angry and healthy first cry.

Opening her eyes, Brienne looked down to behold the plump, screaming bundle that Munda held up to her. “It’s a boy.” His big sister exclaimed, her expression filled with joyful wonder as she placed the babe in his mother’s waiting arms.

Brienne felt as if she were in a dream. Her ordeal completely forgotten, she drew her newborn close to her heart. She gasped, and laughed, and smiled at once. The amazing feeling of a mother adoring her child washed over her. She was barely able to breath, but not because of her exertion. The wriggling, crying little babe in her arms took her breath away. She never realized she could love something so quickly, so unconditionally, and so completely until now when she held her own child. In his precious tiny face she saw her father. She saw Galladon. She saw her sisters, and her mother whose face she did not know. She saw Munda and Anya, but above all she saw Tormund. The babe had his strong proud features. His little head was capped with a fuzz of red. Although, only minutes old, she could tell their child possessed his boldness and fight. With his son in her arms, Brienne collapsed against Tormund, and felt his arms enwrap them. He held them tight and kissed her hair.

“You did it.” Tormund proclaimed to her proudly.

Brienne turned her adoring eyes to look at him. She reached her hand up to stroke his face. “No.” She shook her head. “We did it.” She smiled.

He nestled his head to hers, in awe of her. “I love you.” He told her, not bothering to hide his joyful tears.

Brienne was certain that her heart lacked the room to hold all the happiness she felt. She was sure it would burst at any moment. “I love you.” She sighed. Stretching up, she brought her lips to his. Their kiss was a celebration.

Still perched on either side of Vrenna, Munda and Anya winked at each other and smiled. As if sensing that his parents’ attention had been diverted from him for a moment, the baby squirmed and cried. Brienne and Tormund laughed and then stared at him in wonder.

“Alright now. Tie this as tight as you can.” Vrenna directed Anya. She had taken a piece of clean thick string and run it under the cord of tissue that still attached the child to his mother. Anya eagerly complied, and was rewarded for her work with praise from Vrenna.

“Good.” The only woman affirmed. “Now. Take this carefully, and slice the cord from beneath.” Vrenna continued her instructions, handing a sharp knife to the girl. Anya took the small blade and delicately made the cut, careful not to touch the baby with it. She beamed with the excitement of her success.

Brienne shifted her now free baby in her arms, and gazed at Tormund once more. “Hold him.” She smiled, offering the baby to his father. He gladly accepted. He took his son carefully from the Brienne and cradled the boy in his arms. She leaned against his shoulder enjoying the love and pride that radiated from him. He lifted the child to his face and cooed to him as the baby’s tiny hands reached out, playing with his nose and beard. He was mesmerized at the site of Brienne’s beautiful blue eyes staring blinking back him from their child’s face. 

“He’s perfect.” Tormund praised her. “Just like his mother.” He kissed Brienne’s temple. Then, he stared speechless down at the child they had created, images of the great warrior his boy would become running through his mind.

Brienne felt a small thick rush of fluid between her legs, and Vrenna bent with a clean cloth. The midwife caught up the afterbirth quickly, wrapped it in the fabric, and set it aside. She then dipped another rag in a bowl of water that she had prepared earlier, and washed Brienne of any further remnants. After dressing Brienne for the bleeding that would come, she looked up at the new mother, smiling.

“There.” Vrenna announced. “All finished.”

Brienne breathed out in relief. “Oh. Thank you.” She gave the woman a fatigued smile.

Vrenna’s face held an amused smirk. “No need.” She smiled. “You did all the work.” She patted Brienne’s knee.

“Girls.” Brienne regarded Munda and Anya with affection and respect. She reached for their hands. “Thank you both. “I couldn’t have done this without your help either. I love you, both.” She choked on the lump in her throat.

“We love you, too.” The girls said together. She was a second mother to them, and they adored her.

After a while, Vrenna broke the tender family moment. “Now let me show these girls how to bathe a newborn.” She reached out and took the baby from Tormund’s arms. “You.” Vrenna motioned at him. “Help her put on a clean shift, and put her to bed.” She ordered.

Tormund promptly did as he was told, and gathered Brienne in his arms. He carried her to their bed, where he sat her lightly on the mattress. She quietly directed him which garment to collect, her fatigue already setting in. He then helped her remove her soiled gown and slid the fresh one down around her. He helped her lie back on the pillows and covered her with the warm fur. Finally, he sat beside her, taking her hands and kissing her tenderly.

“So.” Brienne began, her eyes sparkling. “Do we still agree?” She asked excitedly. “About the name?” She smiled.

Tormund nodded proudly. “Of course.” He agreed. “It’ll be a fine name, and it will suit him.” He kissed Brienne’s fingers. She settled down into the pillows, happy and content, trying to ignore the soreness that was beginning to gnaw at her body.

At last their child was returned to them clean, awake, and fussy. “He’s hungry.” Vrenna said, placing the baby back in Brienne’s arms. She pulled aside the front of Brienne’s bodice, and showed her how to nurse her infant. Brienne stared at the babe in wonder as her own body nourished him.

Munda and Anya walked over to stand beside the bed on either side of their father. He put his arms around them, and squeezed them tight placing a kiss on the tops of both their heads. “I’m so proud of you,” he praised them. He looked at them, his eyes twinkling. Then he brought his shining gaze up to include his wife and newborn son. “I’m proud of all of you,” he beamed.

Brienne’s shining face peered up at him from the bed as she moved the baby to nurse from her other side. She looked lovingly at the girls, and patted the mattress beside her. They both sat down carefully along the side of the bed, and happily watched their new little brother. Their father perched at the foot of the mattress, like a sentinel protecting his family. They relaxed together after the events of the night, enjoying the calming security of each others‘ presence. After a while, Brienne finished feeding her baby and covered herself, trying to fight the fatigue that was taking over.

“What’s his name?” Anya questioned joyfully.

Tormund and Brienne looked slyly at each other, still relishing their secret. “We’ve chosen a name to honor Brienne’s father.” Tormund began.

“And yours.” Brienne interrupted, grinning excitedly at the girls.

“What is it?” Munda asked, reaching to let the baby grab her finger.

Brienne lowered her gaze to stare adoringly at their child. “His name is Selmund.” She announced proudly.

“It’s perfect.” Munda gasped, delighted.

“I think he likes it.” Anya declared as she watched her little brother wiggle and coo in his mother’s arms.

“I think he does.” Tormund agreed. He saw Anya yawn from the corner of his eye. The girls had been an important part of a unforgettable day, and he was sure they were tired. Most importantly, he could see Brienne fading and wanted her to rest.

Vrenna had finished cleaning up after the delivery, and gathering her belongings. She quietly approached the family, and looked approvingly at the scene. “The snow’s letting up out there.” She smiled. “I’ll be on my way now.”

“I’ll walk you back to your hut.” Tormund offered, already standing.

“Nonsense.” She refused. “I can manage. You stay here and enjoy all of this.” She ordered, pointing to the exhausted little group. She reached out and patted his shoulder, letting him know she had no hard feelings about the anger had directed at her earlier. She understood he was simply being the typical nervous expectant father. Tormund nodded and smiled his understanding. Then she cast her eyes on Brienne. “I’ll be round tomorrow to check on the both of you.”

Brienne smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you.” She sighed.

“Get some rest.” Vrenna told her, and then tying her cloak around her shoulders, slipped out the doorway, leaving the family to themselves.

“Alright girls.” Tormund ordered. “Time for bed.” He told them. Anya and Munda protested with whines, but stood and made their way to their bedrolls beside the fire. They laid down, their heads filled with the wonders in which they had shared, and were soon fast asleep.

Tormund sat down next to Brienne at the head of the bed. He scooped her into his arms, their son slumbering peacefully in her embrace. “He’s sleeping.” He whispered. “Vrenna was right. You need to rest.” He kissed her lovingly.

“I don’t want to sleep.” Brienne smiled at him. “I don’t want to miss anything. I want to cherish every moment.” She beamed lifting the baby to kiss his forehead, and then leaned against Tormund.

“I think there will be plenty of time for that.” Tormund rested his face against Brienne’s hair. “Besides, he’ll probably need you again in a few hours. You should sleep while you can.” Peering down he saw the deep rhythmic rise and fall of her chest and realized she had already fallen asleep in his arms. As the now light snow fell quietly outside, and his family slept, Tormund held Brienne and Selmund in his protective embrace. He would watch over them through the night, keeping them safe, and thanking the Gods for the treasures with which he had been blessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: The Jaime drama begins!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After years in exile, Jaime Lannister returns to King’s Landing in search of his true love, Brienne of Tarth. After learning of her marriage to Tormund Giantsbane, Jaime vows to travel North and find Brienne, determined to win her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Jaime drama begins...
> 
> I know the timing seems a bit long, but I had to make it so to accommodate somethings coming up in the next chapter.

The inky darkness pooled around him as if it sought to permeate his skin, and drag him down to a Hell he probably deserved. The dark sky looked as if it were melting, spreading its heavy weight over the land. No sounds echoed from the usually bustling streets. No breezes lifted the thick oppressive weight of the stagnant air. Not even the ship bells rang in the bay. It was the kind of night that made a man regret every choice he had ever made, and caused his past haunt him.

Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King, stood sullenly on the balcony just off his solar, lost in thought. It would appear to the casual observer, that he was simply taking in the vista that stretched from the Tower of the Hand within the Red Keep to the sea. However, it was far too dark to see at that great a distance and his thoughts were anything but casual. He enjoyed the daytime. He could stay busy, his duties and the business of the Realm kept him occupied. It was when the world quieted, and the distractions stilled that his mind traveled to places he would rather not go. Tonight was one of those nights.

Tyrion breathed deep the muggy air. He took a long slow swallow of the wine he clutched in his hand like a lifeline. Lifting his head slowly and swirling the red liquid in the heavy metal goblet, he let the dense vintage trail down his throat. It would take much of it for him to find sleep this evening. Tyrion closed his eyes, trying to keep his focus on the strength of the alcohol.

Suddenly, something behind him shifted in the shadows. “Tyrion.” Called the low raspy voice he had not heard in almost three years, but would know anywhere. His brother, bearded and cloaked in black, stepped from the gloom into the dim light cast from the candles flickering through the windows.

Tyrion turned with a start. “Jaime.” He answered, flatly. He was unsure why his voice held such dread as he regarded his beloved brother.

“It is good to see you.” Jaime said hauntingly, his voice choking a bit. “You look well.” He complimented his brother.

Tyrion nodded his wary gratitude. “As do you.” He studied Jaime. “Much better than last I saw you.” He admitted.

“I imagine I do.” Jaime looked down bashfully. They stood in awkward silence for a moment.

It had taken Jaime far longer to reach Westeros than he had hoped. Tyrion had made sure his hiding place in Essos had been far, far away. Lacking the coin for fare upon a ship, he had walked most of the way from the far off reaches of the distant continent. It had not been an easy journey. Weather, terrain, and his weakened health were not the only impediments that seemed to scheme to keep him from, Brienne, the woman he loved. Broke and nearly starving, Jaime had been forced to halt his progress several times to take employment. The work was hard, but it allowed him at least to eat. He had been mistaken for a beggar and jailed for weeks near Meereen. Finally, nearly a year and half after leaving Asabahd he boarded the ship that would bring him home. He had known that Tyrion was King Bran’s hand, and so upon his arrival, Jaime had traversed the back streets of the Kings Landing until he reached his brother’s quarters.

Jaime’s face was deadly serious when he brought his eyes back to meet Tyrion’s. “Why did you send me to the Gods forsaken bowels of Essos, Tyrion?” He accused. “Why did you leave me there?”

Tyrion exhaled and looked at the sky, perhaps for strength or perhaps because he realized his goblet was empty. He strode purposefully across the balcony in front of Jaime, his head down, and tried to be the voice of reason. “You know as well as I do that you would have been a marked man here in Westeros.” He appealed to Jaime, while he spoke to his absent wine. Jaime followed him inside, close on his heals and ever alert.

“You seem very sure of that?” Jaime smirked.

“Of course I am.” Tyrion agreed. “You sided with the wicked queen.” He said judgementally.

“But not the mad one.” Jaime accused.

“I denounced Daenarys Targaryen, and her mass murder.” Tyrion corrected, filling his goblet and pouring one for Jaime. “You ran back to Cersei like a naughty puppy with your tail tucked between your legs.” He shot back, although he handed Jaime the cup of wine in the same breath.

“So you shipped me off to Asabahd for my own good?” Jaime questioned, gulping the liquid from his goblet.

“Of course.” Tyrion argued. “If I had not done so, your head would have decorated a stake at the gates of Kings Landing.” He affirmed.

“I find it hard to believe that the Starks and Jon Snow would have been so unforgiving.” Jaime protested.

“Perhaps so, but remember, it was Daenarys who took the city. Had you been captured by her forces, you and Cersei would not have lasted the day.” Tyrion sipped from his cup, certain of himself.

“Well. Cersei did not.” Jaime recounted. Tyrion noted the absence of sadness in his tone upon mentioning their sister’s death.

“You would not have either.” Tyrion assured him. “The citizens of the city themselves would have seen to it, believe me.”

Jaime considered his brother’s words. “Perhaps.” He reluctantly agreed. “But I could have begged. I could have appealed. I could have sneaked out the same way I had entered.” He reasoned.

“You were barely alive.” Tyrion reminded him.

Jaime’s face grew wistful as he continued. “I could have gone back.” His voice lowered to a whisper.

Tyrion’s demeanor calmed to match Jaime’s. He understood what his brother meant. He knew that Jaime had loved Brienne of Tarth, and that he had only left her because he had been so destroyed by Cersei, he felt he deserved nothing better. She had always manipulated and controlled him, until he could barely function without her approval. Perhaps he had felt as though he was protecting Brienne when he had abandoned her after their passionate romance at Winterfell. Tyrion knew that Cersei could well have had Brienne killed. Maybe Jaime was trying to save Brienne from the evil he always wrongly felt was within him. Whatever the true reason, Tyrion knew it had not been only Brienne’s heart that had shattered that night in the cold.

“Gone back?” Tyrion repeated his brother’s words.

Jaime gave Tyrion a knowing look. “Where is she?” He eyed his brother. “Where is Brienne?” Jaime begged.

Tyrion eyes grew even sadder, knowing that was the real reason for his brother’s return from the dead. It was he who was to be the bearer of the news. That Brienne now belonged to someone else. He looked at Jaime with pity, and forced the words he had been trying to avoid. “Jaime.” His eyes saddened with regret and he shook his head. “Brienne is gone.”

The blood drained from Jaime’s face. He struggled to draw breath, and fought simply to stand. He had heard Tyrion wrong, surely. What had his brother meant? Images of Brienne came flooding into his mind. Thoughts of her strong, vibrant, and filled with life played in front of his eyes. He remembered the conversation he had overheard in the drinking establishment in Asabhad. The soldier had bragged of seeing Brienne wounded. Had that Essosi demon truly cut her down? If she was dead, there would be no reason for him to go on.

His eyes grew wide as he searched Tyrion’s face. “The battle...” He stammered weakly. “At Eastwatch.” Jaime’s words came in disjointed pieces as he tried to make sense of it all. “She was wounded...” He gasped.

“How did you know that?” Tyrion asked astonished.

“I heard an Essosi soldier talking about that battle in a tavern.” Jaime could barely breath as he explained. “I heard him talking...about her.” He felt the world spin beneath him and begin to give way. He grabbed a tall carved chair for support.

When he was able to speak, he turned pained eyes to his brother. “Did she suffer?” He was not sure he wanted to know.

Tyrion realized he had perhaps chosen the wrong phrase. He shook his head. “That is not what I meant, Jaime.” Tyrion told him. “Brienne lives. She was quite gravely wounded in the battle, but with time and care she was returned to full health.” He said alleviating Jaime’s fears.

“I don’t understand?” Jaime questioned as relief and hope washed over him anew. “How is she gone?” He asked.

Tyrion cleared his throat and attempted to find more appropriate words. “She is gone from King’s Landing.”

Jaime’s smile grew wide, and he almost shuttered as he was able to draw breath again. “Then she is at Winterfell.” He conjectured, nodding with certainty. Tyrion shook his head, not wanting to tell his brother the truth.

“Tarth. She has returned to her father’s house.” Jaime said, sure he was correct.

The remorseful look he received told him otherwise. “Jaime.” Tyrion began, knowing it would break his brother’s heart. “Brienne has married another.”

Jaime looked as if he had been punched in the gut. All his hopes were crumbling to the dust. In an instant his face turned sour, his eyes darkening to rage filled pits. “Who?” He spat, remembering what the Essosi had said about the fire-haired wild man who had rushed Brienne from the battlefield at Eastwatch. Jaime was fearful he already knew Tyrion’s answer.

“Tormund Giantsbane.” Tyrion reported, stepping back a little to await the tirade that was sure to come. “Queen Sansa has released Brienne from her oath and she has gone North of the Wall with her husband, to make their life together.” He told his crestfallen older brother.

“Don’t call him that!” Jaime snapped, his eyes burning with rage.

“That’s what he is, Jaime.” Tyrion said with a raise of his brow.

Jamie shook his head, not able to believe what he had heard. “No!” He began to shout. “No! She loves me. I should be her husband.” He argued.

Tyrion’s listened, his understanding turning to incredulousness. “You gave up that right.” He reminded his brother. “She loved you, Jaime.” He conceded. “I am certain of that.” His mind traveled back to their time at Winterfell. “Brienne respected you, and saw the same goodness in you I always have.” Tyrion praised. “She even finished your page in the White Book when she came here to Kings Landing. It is so glowing and stellar, that it had to have been she who wrote it.” Tyrion had seen it for himself, the depths of their feelings for each other, and he understood how their love had grown. “All of that seems a hundred ago, now.” He lamented.

“How?” Jaime demanded. “She could barely stand him.” He was certain there had to be some reason, other than her own heart, that would cause Brienne to have agreed to become Giantsbane’s wife. He could not fathom that Brienne would have developed feelings for the wild man she once denied.

“Queen Sansa, and Jon Snow sent them both on a mission together to secure the unity of the North.” Tyrion reported. “Apparently time together drew them close, and cemented their bond.” He announced, his face unintentionally relaying a fondness for the couple.

Jaime’s eyes glared. “Sent them? Together?” He scoffed. “So it was Sansa Stark and Snow behind this?” He was sure there was a conspiracy.

“Behind what?” Tyrion demanded. “Brienne and Giantsbane were the obvious choices as envoys.” He explained. “You can put two people together, but you cannot make love grow between them. That comes on it’s own.” Tyrion told him, growing annoyed at his brother’s ego. Jaime needed no reminder. In his mind he had relived every moment he had ever spent with Brienne, and recalled how his love for her had taken hold of him.

“Perhaps she simply gave into to his persistent, annoying advances.” Jaime conjectured. There had been no one to draw her away from Giantsbane’s zealousness.

Tyrion shook his head. “When did you ever know Brienne of Tarth to give in to anything?” He scoffed, then Tyrion thought about how much hearing of Brienne’s marriage to someone else must be tearing Jaime apart. His tone softened as he tried to explain.

“I’ve seen them together at Winterfell.” Tyrion confirmed. “She loves him, and he loves her.” He told Jaime, hoping that at least knowing Brienne was happy would calm him. “I have scarce ever seen two people so much in love.” A smile crossed his face in spite of himself. He remembered how joyful he had been for Brienne when he had watched her with the Wilding. The expression only incensed Jaime further.

“I am the one she loves!” Jaime shouted unable to hold his ire any longer. He slammed his hand down forcefully on the table. Tyrion watched as his expression changed to that of a mad man. “I will go North. I will find Brienne.” Jaime seethed. “When she sees me, she will not be able to deny that I am the one she loves.” He asserted. “Then she will go with me, and the Wildling will be left sitting alone in the snow.” He grinned, imagining his plan.

Tyrion again shook his head. “She won’t leave.” He said confidently.

“Then I’ll take her.” Jaime began creating options in his mind. “When she’s away from him, she will remember how much she loves me.”

Tyrion stared at Jaime with disbelief. Had his dear brother lost his mind? “I can guarantee that she will not allow that to occur.” He looked earnestly at Jaime.

“What makes you so sure she won’t runaway with me of her own free will?” Jaime asked, still confident in the feelings Brienne once held for him. Of all people he would have thought Tyrion would have been his champion in reclaiming the heart of his beloved.

Tyrion looked up into his brother’s eyes with a sad frown. It killed him to see Jaime’s heart ache so, longing for someone he would never have. “Jaime.” He whispered, drawing in a deep breath. “Brienne has given the Wilding a son.” He broke the news softly. Jaime could only stare in silence, his dream of the child they might have created together destroyed.

“You know Brienne.” Tyrion continued solemnly. “Do you really believe her the kind of woman who would abandon her child?” Tyrion squinted at him, seriously.

The pit in Jaime’s stomach clawed it’s way up to his heart. How he wanted to be the father of Brienne’s children. Jaime knew Brienne would give her life rather than to leave her own flesh and blood. His intentions raced ahead of logical thought. “She can bring the boy. I will raise him as my own.” Jaime offered, more to ease his own mind. “He is part of her. I will learn to love him.” He nodded.

Tyrion’s face sagged with the enormity of what Jaime proposed. “I am sure that is exactly what Brienne would want for her son.” He began sarcastically. “A man who tolerates him, rather than the boy’s own devoted father.” He rolled his eyes. “Listen to yourself.” Tyrion demanded. “Do you even know what you’re saying?” He beseeched Jaime to be reasonable.

“I know exactly what I am saying.” Jaime lifted his chin. “I intend to fight for her.” He declared.

“I am certain that stealing another man’s wife and child goes over about as well in Wilding culture as it would here in the south, Jaime.” Tyrion spun on him, forcing him to examine his grand plan. “You’ll be dead before you reach The Wall, and you may cause Brienne’s death as well.” He illustrated a dreadful ending. Jaime said nothing. He simply stood there. His mouth contorted into a grimace. His breath shallow from hate.

“What did you think she was going to do?” Tyrion continued to grill his brother. “Did you simply assume that Brienne would pine away for you for the rest of her life like the Kingslayer’s widow?” He scoffed. “You didn’t even give her that much did you, Jaime?” He could no longer hold his venom. Brienne was his friend, and he hated the way his brother had hurt her.

Jaime was quiet for a moment. Never, as he had dreamed of her, had it occurred to him that she might not want him. “The thought of her, of winning her back, was the only thing that kept me alive.” Jaime confessed as his expelled the breath hopelessly from his lungs. His eyes glistening with tears.

“She had to move on.” Tyrion said trying to help Jaime understand. He recalled the day she bid him farewell and charged him with the care of the most precious gift Jaime had given her. He sat his goblet on the edge of his desk and walked slowly to a large wooden cabinet along the wall. He pulled a long chain from inside his tunic, attached to which was a key. Turning the lock beneath the handle, Tyrion opened the heavy door. He reached in and retrieved a long, thin parcel that had been carefully wrapped in the finest silk. Jaime studied his motions intently. The item contained within was obviously heavy for his brother to carry.

Tyrion returned and laid the mysterious covered article carefully on the table. He peered up at Jaime almost apologetically, and then began to remove the fine fabric from around the treasure it held. Jaime’s shocked gasp caught in his throat. Before his eyes, far from its rightful place hanging at Brienne’s side, unused and stored away sat Oathkeeper. He had given her the magnificent sword not only as a testament to her bravery, but he now understood that he also bestowed the weapon upon her as a token of his love. The only kind he could dare show, then. Even when she had received it, neither could admit that it would be the symbol of their feelings for one another. The candlelight gleamed off the brilliant Valerian steel as Jaime removed it from the buttery rich leather scabbard. His heart realized what the enormity of it being gone from Brienne’s possession meant, and the sacrifice she had made.

Jaime caressed the blade like he had once done Brienne. His eyes were distant, reliving a memory, as his brain reeled with confusion. “It is her’s.” He whispered painfully. “I told her it would always be hers.” The hurt that echoed in his voice was almost more than Tyrion could bear, and he stepped forward ready to comfort his brother’s broken heart.

Forcing himself back to reality, Jaime flashed angry eyes at Tyrion. “This is Brienne’s.” He affirmed. “She would never part with it.” His words were more to convince himself. “How are you in possession of it?” He demanded.

Tyrion took a deep breath and drained his goblet. Jamie deserved at least the explanation to his question. “Before she left Kings Landing, Ser Brienne called upon me.” He began. “She bid me to take the sword.” Tyrion explained. “She said that it was Lannister steel, and should stay in our family.” He recounted.

“I see.” Jaime spoke almost bitterly. “So Oathkeeper meant so little to her?” He asked rhetorically.

“It wasn’t like that.” Tyrion corrected him. “It meant everything to Brienne. It broke her heart to relinquish such a treasure.” He paused. “Her only connection to you.” He reminded Jaime.

“Then why?” Jaime winced as if his pain were physical.

“Because she could not live the rest of her life mourning a man she felt was not hers.” Tyrion spoke up. “Because she could not go forward with her future, tied to a dead man.” He paused sadly. Jaime stared at him, confused and not understanding the meaning behind Tyrion’s words. It had never entered Jaime’s mind that Brienne would doubt his feelings for her, even though he had returned to his sister.” 

“It was Brienne’s belief that your life had ended the way you had wished.” Tyrion lamented. “That you had rather die with Cersei than live with her.” He told Jaime painfully.

“Is that what she said?” Jaime’s guilt overwhelmed him. Tyrion simply nodded, and regarded Jaime with sympathy. Jaime shook his head remorsefully, his face stricken at the thought of the pain he had caused the only woman he had ever truly loved. “No. No.” He whispered. “Oh, Brienne.” Jaime spoke to her as if she were standing before him. “You could not have been more wrong.” He could barely breathe over his torture. 

“You could have told her that I lived still.” Jaime lashed out at Tyrion, his rage uncontrollable. He could not understand why his brother had not revealed his secret to Brienne at such a time.

“It would not have made a difference.” Tyrion lamented. “She was excited about her new duty, and...” He could not continue.

“And?” Jaime glowered, pleading for him to elaborate.

Tyrion nodded. “You left her.” He charged. “You broke her heart, Jaime.” He indicted. “Just as yours is now breaking.” Jaime lowered his head at the truth. “I do not believe her pride would have allowed her to run to you in Essos. I did not wish to add to her grief. She mourned you, and she had to let you go.” Truthfully, he had hoped Brienne would find the fulfillment she now enjoyed. He knew that learning of Jaime’s existence would have only deepened her pain. He refused to do such a thing to his friend.

“Jaime.” Tyrion sounded pensive. “Please tell me, because I do not understand.” He stared ahead, averting his eyes from his brother’s misery. He knew his words would be heavy enough. “If you love Brienne so much.” He swallowed. “Why did you leave her?” He implored.

Jaime’s face turned mournful. He eyed Tyrion with disbelief. Surely his brother was aware of his reasons. “I did not deserve her, Tyrion.” He shook his head. “I told her I was hateful. If I had stayed, I would have poisoned her with the wickedness in my soul.” Jamie hung his head sullenly. “I had to make her hate me.” He admitted. “If she had followed me, which you know she would have, it would have meant her death.” He closed his eyes at the painful image he had so greatly feared. “I had to protect Brienne.” He told Tyrion.

“Are saying you intended to kill, Cersei?” Tyrion studied Jaime intently. They had never spoken of this before.

Jaime paused. “I couldn’t. You know that.” He reminded Tyrion. “I could not kill my own child.” He affirmed. “Would that not have been worse by far than killing my own king?” He beseeched. 

“Yet, you gave everything?” Tyrion tried to understand Jaime’s bewildering logic.

“I could not let her, or myself, hurt Brienne.” He swallowed remorsefully. “So I told Cersei whatever lie she needed to believe, and resigned myself to a life with her.”

Tyrion exhaled slowly. “But you did...hurt Brienne.” He lamented. Jaime’s tears-filled eyes told Tyrion that his brother needed no reminder of that fact. Tyrion studied the table far too intently, not wanting to distress his brother further. “Jaime.” His shoulders fell as he shook his head in regret. “The Maesters examined every inch of Cersei’s body, inside and out, before they laid her upon the pyre.” His pained eyes rose to meet his brother’s stare. “There was never any child.” Tyrion’s heart broke thinking of what Jaime had forsaken for their sister’s treachery.

Jaime caught the back of a nearby chair for support as the world began to spin. Tyrion tried to ease his despair. “She must have known she was losing you.” He told him sympathetically. “She had to know it. Even at the Dragon Pit, the tension between the three of you was so thick, it could have been cut with a blade.” Tyrion recalled. “Cersei had to have sensed it. She knew that telling you she was carrying your child was the only way to keep you.”

Jaime’s mind was reeling at Tyrion’s revelation. “It was all a lie.” He whispered to himself.

Tyrion nodded. “You left the woman you loved and the life you could have had together. You broke Brienne’s heart, and almost died because of a lie.” He agreed flatly.

Shaking, Jaime dragged the chair over which he leaned from beneath the table and sat stiffly, his knees giving way. He could barely breathe, and forced his chest to rise and fall. “I threw all of it away for nothing.” Only now, when faced with truth of Cersei’s manipulation of him did he understand fully his sacrifice, and the consequences of it. “I was a fool.” He cursed himself.

Jaime laid his face mournfully in his hands, and saw again Brienne’s pained expression on the night he had left. “Gods.” He swore. “How I must have hurt her.” He hated himself.

Tyrion allowed Jaime his moment to mourn before his practical nature took over once more. “You made a choice.” He told his brother, stoically.

“It was the wrong choice.” Jaime’s eyes filled with bitter tears as he looked over to Tyrion.

“No matter how ill informed, it was still your choice to make.” Tyrion confronted Jaime. “Just as Brienne has made her choice. She has married the Wildling and started a family with him.” He told his brother, raising his head with certainty. “You need to honor that choice, and allow her to live her life in peace.” He said, his jaw steeling with determination. “You have no right to disturb her family.”

Jaime sat quietly. Tyrion’s words sinking into his flesh like a smothering rain. In truth he had to admit that he was glad Brienne had not spent the last years wallowing in sadness, longing for a ghost who had rejected her and broken her heart. Jaime was certain that Tormund Giantsbane had lavished Brienne with all the love he could not give her himself. He tried to picture her as a wife, as a mother, and a partner. For a moment, he allowed the image to form in his mind. He saw her tall and strong, a vision, shielding her family. He smiled at the thought of how protective and adoring she must be with her son. She deserved that happiness, and he knew it.

It was then that Jaime’s brain reminded him that it was not his home she saw to. It was not his child she cared for. It was not their home in which she sheltered. Brienne was not his wife. His soft expression upon imagining her faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. A darkness found his face and it washed into his mind. It was Giantsbane with whom Brienne had made her home. Giantsbane with whom she shared her marriage bed. Giantsbane who had fathered her child. Brienne was the Wilding’s wife. The years Jaime had spent longing for her, regretting leaving her, imagining winning her back had burned a hole in him. It was a void that would only be filled by holding Brienne in his arms once more.

Jaime sat at the table in Tyrion’s solar, his face turning into a mask of anger. His hand writhing into a clenched fist. He shook his head, as if to clear the soft resignation that had begun to set in. He remembered lying in the darkness, under the furs at Winterfell, his arms filled with Brienne’s shapely form. His heart brimming with the love for her that he had fought and hidden for years. He had finally come to know what it meant to be happy. Then, he had destroyed it.

“No!” Jaime slammed his fist against the thick oak of the tabletop. “No! She loves me.” Jaime proclaimed. “I love her.” He nodded vehemently, sure of himself. “We were meant to be together.”

Tyrion sighed mournfully. “Jaime, please.” He implored. “I beg you. Don’t do this.” His eyes bore into Jaime as if he could will his brother back to his senses.

Jaime tapped the table, finally deciding upon the actions he had to take. He had set this course long ago in Essos. He would see it through or die trying. What difference could it make? He was already a dead man. His body tensed as he jumped up, grabbing Oathkeeper and shielding the precious weapon next to himself as if it were Brienne herself.

“You’ll see, Tyrion.” He vowed. “I will win her back.” Jaime shook with conviction. “When she sees me, alive and well, Brienne will forget about that Wilding.” He smiled at the thought. “She will remember that it is me she loves.”

“Jaime.” Tyrion tried to stop him as Jaime strode toward the door to the balcony.

Jaime stopped, turning to smile at Tyrion before leaving. “Just wait, my brother.” He said, his mind already racing ahead. “The next time you see me, Brienne will be My wife.” He promised, his eyes sparkling.

Jaime departed back into the dark cover of night, Tyrion running fast on his heels. “Jaime!” Tyrion shouted desperately. He ran out onto the stony ledge of the balcony only to find his brother already disappeared, as if he had never been there.  
———————————-  
There was one more stop Jaime needed to make before he left Kings Landing. He had not intended to tarry, but his conversation with Tyrion had made him determined to see what Brienne had written about him in the White Book. He crept through the shadows warily as he approached the White Sword Tower where the volume was kept. His feet directed him toward the barracks of the Kingsguard. He knew the route innately, the memory of his time in residence there coming back to him as if it were only yesterday. Most the Guard had long since turned in, but a few were still prowling the halls especially those unlucky enough to have pulled duty on this sweltering evening.

He took his time stealthily gaining access to the stairway that led to the tower. A number of times he had pressed himself against the wall in the shadows and held his breath until a sentry had passed. He smiled to himself when he realized that one of those sentinels was a Podrick Payne. The young Lord Commander had obviously learned from his former master, Brienne, never willing to ask a duty of those under her command that she would not undertake herself. He swelled with pride at the thought of Brienne’s honor. His hand went to Oathkeeper which he had already secured around his waste. He would return the weapon to its rightful owner.

Ascending a few flights, Jaime finally came upon his destination. The room that held the White Book looked clean and bright, obviously having been rebuilt after its collapse. It was a wonder the record itself had survived. The chamber was dimly lit by a few small torches placed along the walls. In the dim light Jaime spied the thick worn book that detailed the exploits of the most valiant knights of Westeros. Cautiously Jaime took a heavily melted candle stick from the podium and fired it to life using one of the torches. He returned and sat behind the heavy parchment. He knew where his page was, it had been his embarrassment for many years.

He delicately turned back the thin paper leaves to the place where his story had been left unceremoniously short. To his surprise he found that the record of his exploits now filled two pages. It was all there. The Whispering Wood. His oath to Lady Catelyn. The loss of his hand was made to sound heroic. His victory at Riverrun, sacrificing Casterly Rock, and his grand plan to take Highgarden were portrayed as noble. Tears came to his eyes as he read what was written about his service at Winterfell fighting the dead. His heart seized to remember how he and Brienne had battled side by side as one. Of course it had been Brienne who had written these words about him. Only she knew all of it. She had been his companion through most of it. Finally, he came the most heartbreaking of all. He read her account of his leaving. She had written that he rode south attempting to save the capital, instead of that he had left his beloved in the middle of the night like a coward to return to his evil manipulating sister. Jaime’s eyes fell hard upon the last lines Brienne had written. ‘Died protecting his Queen.’

His tears were falling freely now. He feared they might run the ink on the page. ‘He died a fool.’ Jaime corrected in his head. ‘You are my Queen, Brienne.’ Jaime thought sadly. ‘You always shall be.’

Jaime took a moment to wallow in his misery, and revel in astonishment at Brienne’s compassion. Surely the woman who had written those words loved him. Surely, she still did. He had to believe that.

Turning the pages carefully back, Jaime searched for Brienne’s page. He found none. Anger burned in him for the glaring omission of the bravest most honorable Knight of the Seven Kingdoms. He knew what he needed to do. He would right this wrong. He had once been Lord Commander here. He had every right to pen the page of Brienne’s heroism. Jaime took the lid from the nearby ink well, and picked up the quill that sat beside the book. Thinking for only a moment, he knew exactly what he would write.

Jaime grandly labeled the next empty page, Ser Brienne of Tarth. Then proudly, he recounted her deeds for the ages.

Daughter of Lord Selwyn Tarth. Winner of the Melee at Bitterbridge, and subsequently commissioned to Renly Baratheon’s Rainbowguard at Storms End. Sworn Sword to Lady Catelyn Stark of Winterfell, by oath of fealty. Fought and survived a bear in the pits at Harrenhal. Tasked with finding Lady Sansa Stark and delivering her safely to Winterfell. Given the Valerian steel sword, Oathkeeper, to aid her in her quest. Beat The Hound, Sandor Clegane, in single combat. Avenged the death of Renly Baratheon. Swore an oath of fealty to Lady Sansa Stark. Represented House Stark in presenting one of the dead at the Dragon Pit in Kings Landing. Knighted for her service to the Realm, thus becoming the first female in the Seven Kingdoms. Fought The Dead at Winterfell, ensuring victory over The Night King. Commissioned Lord Commander of the Kingsguard under King Bran Stark. Her efforts were invaluable in uniting the North under House Stark. 

Jaime smiled as he remembered those times he had shared with Brienne, purposefully leaving himself out of her story. His heart burst with love and pride for her as he closed the ancient book. The world would remember Brienne now as she should be, as one of the greatest knights of the realm. He affirmed his belief in Brienne’s love for him, and silently left the tower. He would not stop until he reached her.  
———————————  
Tyrion’s distress over Jaime’s plan gnawed at him as he paced the floor of his solar and drained several more goblets of wine. He loved his brother, and he wished he could have returned to find Brienne waiting for him. However, he knew she was more than justified in choosing her own path. He understood that Brienne was deeply in love with Tormund Giantsbane. They had made a life together. Jaime had no right to disturb their union, or worse. Tyrion knew he had only one choice. There was no other way to stop the disaster that promised to occur.

He walked assuredly to his desk and took a small piece of parchment from the top drawer. Upon the paper he described Jaime’s intentions, and beseeched the recipient for help. At first light he would make his way to the Red Keep’s Ravenry and send his warning at Queen Sansa at Winterfell.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime Lannister finally reaches the Real North, and is determined to find his true love, Brienne. What he does not expect is that she is content and happy in her home North of the Wall. Can Jaime accept that Brienne’s heart belongs to another, her husband Tormund Giantsbane? Will Jaime fight to win her back, or let her go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of Sansan in here, too.

Jon had enjoyed a leisurely ride down from the North. The weather had been on his side, and there had been none of the unusual obstacles in terms of terrain, or wildlife. He was counting himself lucky as he completed the last few miles with Winterfell sitting low on the horizon before him. Jon was traveling to greet Sansa and her second child. The Queen in the North and her sworn shield husband, Sandor Clegane, had celebrated the birth of their son not a fortnight before. The babe had been named after the Queen’s dear brother, Robb, and Jon was eager to meet his new cousin. His plan was to spend several months with the Queen, helping her as much as he could with matters of state so that she could enjoy time with her children.

Jon trotted through Winterfell’s main gate, and barely stopped before jumping from his mount. He threw the reins to a waiting stable boy and bounded inside to the Great Hall. Queen Sansa was not keeping court, and he waited patiently while the announcement of his arrival was sent to her in the family’s living quarters. Jon was immediately granted admittance and excitedly climbed the stairs to Sansa’s chambers.

He found Sansa seated in a comfortable chair in the family’s solar, her newborn son nestled securely in her arms. Sandor stood only a few paces from her, watching over his family and diligently attempting to keep their nearly two year old daughter as far from the fire in the hearth as possible. The relief on Sansa’s face was evident when Jon knocked and entered the room. She felt that surely, his arrival meant that all was well North of The Wall.

“Jon.” Sansa smiled. “How wonderful to see you.” She said happily. “Come and sit.” She offered, eager to show off her son. Sandor gruffly thrust his chin upward in a rough greeting as Jon crossed the room.

Taking the chair beside his cousin, Jon gushed over the newborn. He thought fondly of the child’s namesake. He hoped the boy would prove to have the same honor and spirit as Robb Stark had always shown. Jon smiled, delighted, at the happiness Sansa had found. After all she had suffered in her short life, and all she had lost, he felt no one deserved it more.

Sansa was eager to hear the news from beyond The Wall, especially regarding Brienne. “Did our rider reach you?” Sansa implored, urgently.

Jon looked at her questioningly, unsure of what it was she spoke. “Rider?” He asked.

Sansa’s face grew troubled. “Yes.” She confirmed. “With the news from Lord Tyrion.” She told him, apprehensive at his confusion.

Jon shook his head. “No one has traveled to the encampment from the south since last I returned.” His forehead creased with uneasiness. Sansa looked worriedly at Sandor, who for once returned her concerned expression.

Sansa touched Jon’s wrist, her face growing pale. “Wait here.” She begged him. She stood carefully, holding her newborn close to her, and walked to a small desk across the room. Unlocking a drawer, Sansa pulled a thin parchment from within and returned to her seat next to Jon. Anxiously, she handed the paper to him.

Jon read the words Tyrion had penned, his expression turning grave as he finished. “Jaime Lannister is alive?” He repeated the written words, looking up at Sansa with disbelief.

“We sent a rider with a warning for Brienne and Tormund more than a week ago, but have heard nothing.” Sansa reported.

“No news ever reached them.” Jon shook his head. “I left them only a few days ago.” He reported pensively.

“Then.” Sansa paused. “They have no idea, that Ser Jaime might be headed towards them.” She gasped, afraid for Brienne and her family.

“I think I’d be more concerned for the Kingslayer.” Sandor scoffed, swinging Elinore into his arms. “If he sets foot in that camp, Tormund will skin him alive.” He attempted to assuage Sansa’s worry.

“Still, I’d feel better if they knew, and were able to prepare.” Jon said standing. Turning to Sansa, Jon bowed in front of her. “I must beg my leave, Your Grace.” He asked respectfully. “I have a long journey back to the Free Folk camp.” He intended to warn his friends. If he was not already too late.

“Of course.” Sansa granted. “Please hurry, and be careful.” She bid him.

Jon nodded his regards to Sansa and Sandor and quickly left the room heading for the stairs and the stables. He had replaced his horse’s saddle, and was spurring his way North at full gallop before a quarter of an hour had passed. Jon could not remove from his mind the image of his friends, Tormund and Brienne, blissfully enjoying their life together. They were completely unaware that Lannister was probably already near, and had plans to tear their life apart.

The next day, Jon discovered the reason Sansa’s rider had never reached his destination. While passing over a barren patch of land that he had previously traversed at night on his way to Winterfell, Jon found the remains of an armored man carrying the banner of House Stark, as well as the mutilated carcass of a horse. They had been the unfortunate victims of a snow bear. The darkness through which Jon rode had hidden the bodies that he now saw clearly. Although he knew it was wrong, Jon almost hoped that Jaime Lannister would suffer a similar fate on his travels North. He would wish that upon the Kingslayer, if it would save his dear friends from misery.  
——————————-  
Brienne slowly became aware of the familiar comfort and warmth of the fur covered bed she shared with Tormund, as she awoke slowly from another peaceful night’s sleep. She enjoyed this time of day. Her senses were greeted by the comforting sounds and smells of her home while she enjoyed the final few moments of her dreamy slumber. She laid content with her eyes shut before welcoming the soft light, and the sites she loved into her vision. She felt the familiar weight of Tormund’s body lying in the bed beside her. However, the abscence of the sweet light sounds of his snoring told her he was awake, and was probably watching her sleep as was his habit. Brienne smiled warmly to herself and nestled deeper under the furs before stretching her muscles and turning over slowly to gaze at him.

She had been right. He was wide awake, and he was not the only one studying her. Brienne’s dreamy smile turned into an adoring giggle when she saw Tormund stretched on his side facing her, his head propped lazily on his hand. Their young toddler son, Selmund, sat next to his father only a few inches from Brienne’s grin. The boy was gripping Tormund’s hand, and smiling sweetly at his mother. Brienne’s groggy eyes grew even brighter at the site before her. She reached out for her child, and the boy happily draped himself onto her neck. Brienne giggled at the sensation, and stretched her head to meet her husband’s kiss.

“We didn’t mean to wake you.” Tormund told her apologetically. Brienne realized he was lying there fully dressed in his usual heavy furs, ready for the days activities.

“You didn’t.” Brienne laughed. She moved the heavy fur down, settling it around her hips, and pulled up the warm shift she wore to reveal her large firm belly, rounded with their second child. “This one did.” She smiled, lightly caressing her skin over the area she had just felt the baby kick.

With a chuckle, Tormund inched his way down the mattress beside Brienne until his face was level with her bared belly. As Brienne occupied herself plastering kisses over Selmund’s tiny face, Tormund lightly encircled her abdomen with his fingers and knudged her hand out of the way with his lips. She moved it aside, caressing his jaw as she went. He kissed the softness of her bulge, and then spoke to his child within her.

“Hello, in there.” He raised his voice in order to be heard through her skin, certain their unborn child was already so brilliant that his every word was understood. “This is your Papa.” He blustered playfully. “Let your mama rest.” He laughed and gave the side of Brienne’s belly another kiss. As if in answer, the tiny being inside his wife responded with another forceful thrust of an unseen foot, this time directly at Tormund’s mouth.

Brienne gasped a little surprised, as Tormund pretended to be hurt and fell over upon the mattress howling and rubbing his jaw. “Whew. That was a strong one.” Brienne exclaimed. She beamed excitedly and rubbed her swollen abdomen once more.

“It was a good one.” Tormund announced, impressed.

Brienne laughed heartily, and patted her middle. “That’s my girl!” She praised, then ran her fingers lovingly through Tormund’s hair. Just as she had been certain from the moment she learned of his existence that her first child would be a boy, Brienne was sure the babe she now carried in her womb was a daughter.

Tormund grinned proudly and draped his arm lazily over her hip, resting his head gently beside Brienne’s abdomen. She leaned back deeper into the pillow, her relaxed mood matching that of her husband. She untied the lacing at the neck of her shift and opened the bodice wide to nurse as Selmund nestled into her, eager to break his fast.

Tormund crawled carefully back up to rest his head against Brienne’s temple. He beamed proudly at his son, and stretched his arm under Brienne’s belly to cradle the burgeoning life they had made. “Two more moons and you’ll have two of my babes at your breast.” He sighed proudly.

Brienne snickered and tussled her son’s flaming locks, looking adoringly at her little boy. “Selmund won’t be nursing much longer.” Her tone was regretful at the idea of losing that close bonding time with her firstborn. “He’s already eating solid food.” She smiled sweetly.

Tormund leaned his head over to Brienne and kissed the bridge of her nose, before returning his face next to hers. “Suckle our babies as long as you want.” He declared. “Grow them big and strong.” He touched her cheek. “See what mama’s milk did for me.” He puffed himself up, flexing his muscles.

Brienne giggled and rolled her eyes. “Don’t we need a giant for that?” She questioned teasingly, remembering his oft told tale of how taking refuge with a nursing giant had kept him alive and made him strong. Tormund roared in amusement before bending to kiss Brienne’s lips tenderly.

“I see you’re ready to go.” Brienne noted when their lips parted, rubbing the back of her hand along the furs he wore. Her face looked regretful at the thought of his leaving. “Let me make you something to eat.” She offered.

He shook his head and gratefully denied her request. “There will be something at the Gathering Ground, if I need it.” He assured her.

Today was the first day of the village hunt. It was the most important event of the entire year, and would last for a week. All the men would be riding out in search of the migrating reindeer herds. This was the time that the meat needed to feed the families for the year would be caught and butchered.The herds would be followed by throngs of bears fattening for their season of slumber. There would be meat on the hoof and furs galore. The hunt was vital for the survival of everyone. Always one of the most prodigious hunters, Tormund was determined that he would fell more game and slice off more pelts than anyone this year. He and Brienne would soon be celebrating their second year of marriage. In a little more than a fortnight, Selmund would see his first year’s Name Day. A new baby would soon join their happy family. A successful hunt would be a tribute to the Gods for the blessings they had given him.

After enjoying one more kiss from his wife, Tormund rose from their bed and began to gather his gear. “Are you sure we can’t come down to see you off?” Brienne asked, hopefully.

Securing his weapons to the belt he wrapped around his waist, Tormund returned to sit on the edge of the bed. Having finished nursing their son, Brienne tied her shift closed and sat up heavily, constricted by her round belly. She held Selmund close to her. The little boy’s stomach was full and his body relaxed. Tormund stroked his son’s cheeks admiringly as the child looked sleepily up at him from Brienne’s arms. He moved his eyes to Brienne’s questioning gaze, and shook his head.

“Those crazy horse’s arses will already be worked into a frenzy.” He laughed, referring to the men of the village. “They won’t be watchful of a pregnant woman, or a babe.” He reminded her. “I want here where it’s safe, and you can rest.” He declared, caringly.

Brienne nodded her understanding. She would take no chances with her children. She longingly reached her hand out and caressed Tormund’s face. He melted into her touch before bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her palm. “Be careful.” She demanded. “You all get reckless.” She asserted. “Those hunts can be dangerous, and I want you back here in one piece.” Brienne demanded. She took his hand and laid it once more atop their unborn child. “We need you.” She affirmed.

Tormund gently wrapped his family in his arms, and burrowed into Brienne’s neck. “I’m not as foolhardy as I once was.” He laughed. She chuckled in mock agreement. “I don’t want you to worry. Nothing will keep me from returning to you.” He assured her.

They sat together for another long moment, not wanting to disturb the peaceful mood of the morning. Finally, Tormund nestled Brienne and Selmund back onto the softness of their bed, and pulled the warm fur up around them. Their child was already slipping back into his slumber as Tormund kissed his shaggy head. He then reached up and tasted Brienne’s lips with passionate abandon. The sample would need to last him for a few days. “I love you.” He whispered softly to her.

Brienne smiled sweetly at him. “I love you, too.” She replied, her eyes never leaving his.

Reluctantly, he stood and walked toward the door. On his way he picked up the hunting gear he had prepared, and slung it over his shoulder. Looking back, he was rewarded with Brienne’s adoring gaze. He would, hold it in his heart while he was separated from her. Throwing back the skin on his exit, he drew the cold air into his lungs. ‘It would be a good day for a hunt,’ he thought to himself. He secured the door flap as his wife and child were returning to their dreams inside. Excitedly, he strode from their hut, eager to meet the others and get the sport underway. He did not notice the cloaked figure that watched, hidden in the forest beyond the edge of the village.  
—————————————————-  
Jaime Lannister stood just at the tree line of the dense woods that encircled the Wildling village on one side. The dark mantle he wore turned him into a shadow among the brush. He had watched and waited since well before dawn, having finally reached the encampment in the dark but without any clue as to which tiny skin covered structure held the woman he sought, his true love, Brienne. His journey had been long, and arduous, but through it all the glimmer of hope to which he still held of finding her and winning her back had sustained him.

Jaime had booked his passage upon a ship going North the very same night he had stormed from Tyrion’s chambers. His fair, he paid for by swabbing the decks and any other menial degrading jobs the crew had seen fit to throw his way. The work had been wretched, but he did not care. It took him closer to Brienne, and for that he would have suffered anything. He was more than a week on the vessel, having to endure numerous stops at ports along the way. Finally, they had docked at Hardhomme, the Wildling stronghold, on the Eastern shore of their Land of Always Winter. Barely a town, the hamlet was perched on a narrow strip of rocky beach between the mountains and the sea. The village was still being rebuilt from its destruction by the Night King and his White Walkers, and it was easy for Jaime to slip ashore unnoticed in the chaos.

He had made it to the North, but had no idea where Brienne might be in the vast frozen wasteland. Luckily, Jaime had found it uncommonly easy to gain the information he sought. He had always heard the Wildlings in the North were wary of outsiders, and had steeled himself, ready to do whatever he needed in order to find Brienne. It took little time for him to discover that the Northerners were also unflinchingly honest, and eager to help one another. He would find that Brienne, as Giantsbane’s wife, was now known throughout their culture. These savages beyond The Wall considered her one of them. Jaime pictured her in the fine dark blue armor he had given her, standing tall and proud with Oathkeeper by her side, and scoffed at the idea. ‘Ser Brienne of Tarth, a Wildling?’ He chortled to himself. ‘Never!’ He nearly spat on the ground.

Jaime realized that he could garner the directions to Brienne by appearing as her advocate, an envoy from her father with urgent business. He quickly found a drinking house near the dock that was visited by Wildlings and Southerners alike. He decided to use that fact to his advantage. As he had done in Essos, Jaime ordered a flagon for ale, took a seat in the shadows, and waited. It did not take long for him to spy two young Wildling men who appeared to have more liquor in them than experience. He thought perhaps, he could manipulate their helpfulness, and their thirst.

“Excuse me, my good fellows.” Jaime grinned ingratiatingly as he sidled up to them, careful to hide his handless arm as best he could. “You are of the Free Folk, are you not?” He inquired.

The two drunk Wildlings laughed, and raised their steins high. “You’re damn right we are!” They declared pridefully.

“Then might I buy you proud Freemen a drink?” Jaime grinned. “To show my gratitude for all your people did in fighting the Night King at Winterhall, and saving the whole of Westeros.” He offered, trying not to seem too knowledgeable of the event.

“Winterfell.” One of the younger men corrected.

“Oh yes. Yes of course.” Jaime winced, feigning embarrassment over his purposeful mistake. He did not want them to recognize his true identity.

“We wouldn’t turn down a flagon.” The other one said, upping Jaime’s proposal.

“Of course.” Jaime laughed, hiding his disdain, and raised his hand to call over the serving wench. She came quickly, and Jaime ordered a round for them all. He joked and made small talk with the men while the drinks were served. Jaime waited to delve further into his questioning until several more rounds were brought.

“Perhaps you can be of some assistance to me.” Jaime told his companions. “I have traveled North from a great distance.” He aimed to impress. “All the way from the island of Tarth.” He waited to see if the location registered recognition with the men. When it did not, he plodded on.

“I have been tasked by master, Lord Selwyn of Tarth, with finding his daughter.” He watched the Wildlings intently for any sign that they knew of whom he spoke. When again, there was no indication that his marks had knowledge of Brienne, Jaime understood he would need to be more direct.

“You have not heard that one of your...” Jaime paused, not wanting to insult those he still needed to use. “That one of your culture, has taken a highborn southern lady to wife, and has brought her beyond The Wall?” He tried again, hopefully.

“Hold on.” One of Jaime’s new allies paused. He looked at his friend, concentrating hard on a snippet of memory. “There is a southern lady that lives up here.” He looked at his companion for help, certain the man would understand his direction of thought.

The second Wilding caught on quickly. “Oh yeah.” He grinned. “Giantsbane’s wife.” He laughed loudly.

“Yes.” Jaime smiled widely. “That’s her.” The relief on his face was only partly feigned.

“So you are acquainted with them?” Jaime plodded on, hopefully.

The men laughed, slapped each other on the arm, and nodded their affirmative. “Oh yeah. We know Tormund.” One said. “Everybody knows Tormund.” He howled.

“Excellent.” Jaime declared but lowered his head to avoid prying eyes. “Lord Selwyn will be pleased.” He affirmed.

The first man turned to his friend. “They say she’s a great beauty.” He announced jealously. “Tallest and strongest woman you ever saw. She’s a knight.” He took a sloppy swig of his ale, as the other Wilding finished his thought for him.

“I heard Tormund beat down twenty of his own village that challenged him for her.” He said, exaggerating, but only slightly. The two Wildings agreed, understanding the importance of the feat.

Jaime wanted to cringe. He could not imagine his Brienne being held up as prize in some barbaric ritual. He wondered to himself what might have happened to her if Giantsbane had lost, not realizing that Tormund never lost. ‘The sooner he was out of this place with Brienne the better they would both be,’ Jaime thought to himself.

He wasted no time continuing his charade. “Tormund Giantsbane’s wife is Lord Selwyn’s daughter, Ser Brienne of Tarth.” Jaime wanted to purge the contents of his stomach at the thought. “It is with Ser Brienne that I must speak.” Jaime swirled his ale and acted as though he were taking a long swallow. “I have urgent family news that I must deliver to her.” He replied.

“They’d be at Tormund’s clan’s encampment.” One of the eager young men ventured. Spying an opportunity to make a profit, the men eyed each other. “We can take you there.” He offered. “For a price.”

Jaime knew it might come to this. He hid his disgust for the pair’s opportunistic attempt and tried to dissuade their zealous and transparent offer of assistance. There was no way he intended to brave the north to take back Brienne with two drunken natives in tow. He did, however still need their help.

“Oh. I will gladly pay you for information on the location of this encampment.” Jaime reassured them. “However, Lord Selwyn has made it clear to me that I am not to involve anyone else. I am to deliver this news to her personally, and alone.” He could see a suspicious look pass between the two men, who were by now beginning to wonder if helping this stranger was worth their time.

Jaime signaled to the serving woman for another round. “Please allow me to reward your time, and show my gratitude for your help.” He smiled.

With their drinking horns filled to the brims once more, Jaime spent the rest of the evening divining as many details as to the location of the Wildling village as he could. He spent the majority of the night, filling them with enough alcohol so they would most likely not remember their conversation with him, and therefore would not send warning of his approach to Giantsbane.

In the wee hours of the next morning, with darkness still shrouding the landscape, Jaime left his two drinking partners passed out in the corner of the tavern. He stole a horse, and headed directly along the path the Wildlings had described to him. He had not gone far before he understood why the Land Beyond The Wall was considered so brutal. The cold was like a blade edging its way deep into his skin. All around him strange sounds put him on his guard. Even the wind itself was like a demon tracking his every move. The unfamiliar and worrisome elements of his environment only deepened his resolve to find Brienne and save her from this place. He had traveled too far to be turned back now. The Night King himself could not have stopped him. Once he found her, he was certain Brienne would remember that it was him she loved.

It had taken days for Jaime to reach the clan’s encampment. Approaching the village under the cover of darkness had given him the opportunity to circle the collection of small huts undetected, and find a secure hiding place among the dense trees only a short distance away. He had ridden the horse deep within the cover provided by the thickets, and tied the animal to a sturdy tree ready for his return. Jaime had then retraced his path, and sat patiently watching the little camp awaken as light returned to the land. His vantage point on a low hill overlooking the site gave him a view of all that moved.

Jaime watched as the village came to life just before dawn. It soon became apparent that something was happening. The men of the village had begun to gather on the open tundra opposite where Jaime was positioned. It seemed they were preparing to leave. From the weapons they carried, Jaime guessed it must be some kind of large hunting party. Some women had turned out to watch on that side of town. Jaime craned his neck, trying to catch a glimpse of Brienne’s sun yellow hair. He knew he would be able to see her towering over most in the village. To his disappointment, Jaime soon realized that Brienne was not among the revelers. He would have to wait a while longer. He settled in and scanned the spaces between the tiny houses.

It was not long before Jaime saw Tormund Giantsbane emerge from a hut near where he waited. There was no mistaking him. With his wild red hair, and his burly frame wrapped in patchwork furs, he looked like some kind of strange large bear as he made his way though the tents toward the horde in the distance. Jaime noticed there was a spring in his step, and a carefree air to his gate. He supposed to himself that if he had just been lucky enough to have spent the night with Brienne in such close quarters he would have felt the same. Then he sneered malevolently. ‘Let’s see how happy you act when you return to find her gone.’ He eyed Tormund until he was certain the Wildling was well out of range.

Returning his attentions to the hut from which Tormund had come, Jaime saw that a thin plume of smoke rose from the hole left open in the middle of roof of the structure. He thought to himself that the little home seemed comfortable and inviting. Undoubtedly a result of Brienne’s touch. His heart raced to think that she must be there. She must be inside, he was only a short distance from her. He could barely control the urge to run to her. However, he noticed the motion of some other women who had stayed behind at their homes while their men went to hunt. He would be patient and wait until all was clear and nothing stood in his way.  
————————————————  
“I don’t see why we can’t go watch the hunters leave.” Anya complained loudly, as she and Munda made their way through the empty paths of the village.

“You know Papa said it was too dangerous.” Munda rolled her eyes. She had explained it a hundred times to her little sister. “They won’t be paying any mind to a young girl walking around. You’ll get stomped by one of the horses.” She reminded.

“I’ll be careful.” Anya pouted.

“Papa said no!” Munda was growing impatient. “Your mama, and my mama agreed.” She had half a mind to let Anya go and find out how those men, probably many already half drunk, could be. She herself had hoped to be allowed to see off some of village boys. A few of her favorites would be accompanying the older men for the first time. She was fairly sure that was one reason her father had forbade her from watching the hunt depart.

“It’s still not fair.” Anya kicked at the snow, crossing her arms dejectedly.

Munda wrapped Anya’s arm within hers, and pulled her forward. “Don’t you want to help Brienne?” She smiled, trying to cheer up her sister.

“Sure I do.” Anya grinned reluctantly. “But I get to hold Selmund, first.” She demanded, eager to dote on her little brother.

“Fine.” Munda nodded. She would manage the sacrifice if it would quiet Anya’s complaining about the hunt.

The girls trudged happily through the snow, laughing and joking with each other, until they came to the edge of the path that led to their father’s house. It was Munda who saw the stranger first, and stopped dead in her tracks. Anya locked up annoyed as she ran into her, but then noticed at what Munda was staring. A cloaked figure stood only feet from the doorway of the home. They knew their father would have already left for the hunt, and that Brienne and Selmund would be alone inside. Normally, they were proud that Brienne could easily subdue an intruder. Now, however, she was heavy with a new brother or sister for them, and was not in her top fighting form. They did not want the think of anything happening to Brienne, Selmund, or the baby.

Munda grabbed Anya and pulled her to the side of a nearby hut where they would not be seen. They watched as the stranger sneaked closer to the flap of animal skin that would be useless to keep him out. He turned and surveyed his surroundings in all directions. Anya grabbed Munda’s arm and squeezed hard, in fear. She noticed how the man seemed to be hiding his right arm within his heavy dark cloak. She feared that perhaps he had a weapon.

“What’s he doing?” Anya whispered urgently.

“I don’t know.” Munda replied, annoyed. She was trying to focus, and her mind was spinning as she tried to figure out what to do.

The girls watched as the tall blonde man stood motionless for a moment. They could see even at that distance that his chest heaved breathlessly. He turned once more, and they noticed the reason he shielded his right side. As he moved, the covering over his shoulder fell away and they saw that his right hand was missing. Then, he moved the flap at the doorway aside and entered the hut.

“Go get Papa!” Munda ordered, already on the move.

“What?” Anya questioned. “What about the hunt? I’m sure they’ve already left.” She questioned.

Munda pivoted impatiently. “Take a horse, and go out and find Papa.” She instructed. “Tell him what’s happening.” Munda ordered.

“What about you?” Anya squealed.

“I’m going down there to help.” Munda replied with determination.

As Anya turned hastily to leave, Munda caught her breath, not knowing exactly what she was going to do. All she knew was that Brienne was in trouble, and she was not going to allow anyone to hurt her. Whoever this stranger was had better prepare for the fight of his life. She steeled her nerves and ran toward the little house, ready to protect her family.  
———————————  
Brienne had only managed to nap for a short while after Tormund had left for the hunt. Selmund had awakened soon after, and was ready to continue his morning meal. Brienne had happily slipped from her warm bed and dressed quickly, eager to care for her son. She had set the boy down in his cradle and went about fixing warm pourridge for the both of them. Busy at the sideboard counter preparing the grains to boil, and humming a sweet song to her child, she did not hear the flap of her doorway as it was moved aside. Her focus on her cooking, Brienne was distracted only by checking on Selmund as she cooed and talked to the boy. She did not see the cloaked figure stealthily enter her home and remove his hood.

Jaime stood for a moment in awe. Brienne was there, in front of him. Finally, he had found her. All of the time, and distances he had traveled fell away. His dreams seemed within his reach. Brienne had her back to him, and although he could not see her face, his heart raced with joy. His eyes scanned the interior of the hut, which by his standards, he would describe as a hovel, sparsely decorated and utilitarian. Even the mud abode in Essos in which he healed had been more grand. Brienne deserved to be in a palace. He saw bitterly, the unmade bed she shared with Giantsbane, and his jaw clenched with jealous hatred for Brienne’s husband. Jaime’s eyes fell upon the babe watching him innocently from the cradle. Although the child had his father’s flaming red hair, he had Brienne’s brilliant blue eyes. Jaime’s heart pained at the thought that the boy might have been his own son, if only he had not left. Unable to endure one moment longer without her, Jaime found the courage to make his presence known.

“Brienne.” Jaime called out, his voice hoarse and nervous. He stood waiting, trembling, for her to turn.

She froze, her breath caught in her throat. The voice came to her ears through the heavy fabric of the years that had passed. The last time she had heard it had been on that cold dark night in the courtyard at Winterfell. There had been pain behind his words. She remembered how the regret on his face had been in such contrast to the course he had set. For the longest time it was all she could remember of him, the way he looked when he left. Brienne had fought her grief, and determined to move on. She had finished his page in the White Book, and closed his chapter in her life, she thought forever. Then Brienne had found love with Tormund. That had changed her destiny, and now she did not think of Jaime at all. Her mind struggled to understand why his voice should come back so clearly to her, now.

“Brienne.” Jaime spoke again, unable to move. His voice nearly a whisper.

Realization dawned slowly. Brienne felt her hands go numb as her mind suddenly discerned that it was not a memory that toyed with her ears. She dropped the wooden dish of grain she held from her shaking fingers, the kernels spilling across the floor. The voice was his, and he stood behind her. All she need do was to turn. For a long moment, she could not.

Jaime could not force breath into his lungs. His entire body ached to rush to Brienne and take her into his arms. It was clear that she was stunned simply by the sound of his voice. He did not wish to overwhelm her, and would wait for her mind to comprehend his presence. He was certain that her joy would match his upon seeing him alive, and knowing that they could have a life together.

Then, slowly, she moved around to face him. Brienne’s heart pounded in her ears as she found Jaime Lannister, alive and well and standing only a few feet from her. Her gasp split the silence, but it was not caused by her shock. The sudden rush of the blood within her veins had caused the babe she carried to react. A sharp kick struck her side from within and she doubled over in pain, clutching her rounded belly with one hand and the sideboard with the other. A low groan rose from her throat, and she dared not move fearing something was wrong. Her concern registered upon her face. Jaime tried to bolt ahead to catch Brienne if she fell, fearing she may pass out. He had not known that she was with child, and understood what a sudden shock of the kind she had just experienced could do to an expectant mother. He had no wish to be the cause of her child coming too early. He rushed to her, wanting to help.

“Don’t come near me.” She ordered, her face lined with worried. Brienne stepped back from him, and waited for the pain to subside. In her mind, she checked her body and her babe to be sure all was well. Finally, satisfied that she was strong and so was the baby she carried, Brienne stood and stared at him.

Before her mind could form thoughts, Brienne heard Selmund murmur from a few feet away. Her child’s voice brought her back to reality, and she quickly grabbed the knife that lay upon the sideboard near her grasping fingers. She hid it in the skirt of the wide dress she again wore to accommodate her expanding waistline. She had no idea why Jaime was there. She hoped he meant them no harm, but she would take no chances with the lives of her children. Brienne moved to protect Selmund, positioning herself in front of his cradle, and draping her free hand over the wooden rim. She wished Tormund were there.

“You’re alive.” Brienne said to Jaime dryly. Her mind struggled to understand where he could have been the whole time she had mourned him. There was a time she would have given anything for Jaime to be standing in front her. Now, all she wanted was Tormund’s strong reassuring protection.

“I am.” Jaime answered lowly, his face painted with shame. He had longed for her for so long. Now that he was with her it felt more like a dream than any of his fantasies. He had thought she would rush into his arms. Her emotionless, accusatory stare made the awkward moment worse. This was not at all the reunion for which he had hoped.

Brienne stood glaring at him, as still as a statue. “I do not understand?” She questioned. “Where have you been?” She implored him, gravely.

“It is a long story.” Jaime tried to chuckle, but it came out more of a flustered sigh. Brienne only stared, waiting for the explanation.

“I was gravely injured, when the Red Keep collapsed upon us...upon me.” He corrected. He had not meant to bring up the ghost of Cersei. “Tyrion found me and ushered me secretly to Essos, to heal.” He lowered his eyes at the thought of the years that were lost to them. “He felt I would be in danger if I stayed in Westeros. I was barely conscious and unable to protest.” His eyes begged for forgiveness. “If I could have, I would have returned to you.” Jaime admitted freely. “It took a long time for me to recover, but I was determined to find you.” He assured her.

Brienne regarded him with a confused scowl. “Why?” She asked, her face holding not the renewed passion he had hoped to find, but bewildered indifference. “Why are you here?” Brienne questioned. Jaime realized that she saw no reason for him to have come North.

“I thought...” Jaime stammered, looking longingly at Brienne. “I hoped that when I found you, I could bring you back to the south with me, or anyplace you want to go.” He offered, almost begging. “Somewhere away from...here.” He meant that he wanted to take her someplace befitting her. He wanted to find a pedestal upon which to place her. Although he knew she would hate that. He did not mean for his words to sounds so condescending.

Brienne immediately took offense to his seemingly judgmental tone. She straightened incredulously. “This is my home, Ser Jaime.” Brienne corrected him. “This is where I live with my husband. Where I brought my child into the world, and where I will soon bear another.” She stroked her widened middle proudly.

Jaime was not making the impression he had imagined he would. He had wanted to sweep her off her feet, not make her angry. “Of course.” He conceded. “Forgive me. I meant no offense.” He begged. His arms ached to hold her, regardless of the fact that she carried another man’s child.

He smiled warmly, watching her in the role of mother and wife. His whole heart wished it were his home that she brightened. “It seems this domestic life suits you.” Jaime meant for his statement to be a praise of her, but again his words were mistaken for contempt.

Brienne’s anger flared once more. “I can still fight as well as any man on the battlefield.” She sneered at him. “I could do so with one babe on my hip, and another in my belly if need be.” Her eyes glared with passion.

As he alway found himself, Jaime was astonished by the sheer power of her. “I have no doubt it would be so.” He confirmed.

At that moment, Munda burst through the doorway, winded from her all out run and desperate to assist the woman she considered her second mother. “Brienne!” She called out in alarm, and then froze when she saw the man standing before her. In his shock at her unexpected arrival, Jaime began to reach for one of the swords that hung at his waist.

Brienne gasped. “Munda, get behind me!” She ordered. Brienne reached for the girl, and motioned emphatically, her eyes searching for the ever present figure of Anya behind her.

Jaime dropped his hand away from the weapons he carried when he realized that the intrusion upon his reunion with Brienne was only a young girl, and not an armed party of Wilding fighters. He knew immediately from the flaming hair, that she must have belonged to Tormund. “Giantsbane’s girl, I presume.” Jaime confirmed, as Munda inched past him and rushed to Brienne’s side.

Brienne raised her chin proudly. “My readymade daughter.” She affirmed, letting it be known that she would fight as hard to protect Munda as she would for Selmund or her unborn child. She grabbed Munda as the girl came near.

Brienne shielded the girl with her own body. Munda leaned close to her and whispered, “Anya has gone to fetch Papa.” Brienne gave her a hidden look of understanding, yet still tightened her grip on Selmund’s crib.

“Brienne.” Jaime looked earnestly at the woman who at one time, trusted him implicitly. “I would never hurt you, or your children.” He vowed, his face somber at the thought that the faith she once had in him was gone.  
———————————-  
Tormund sat tall in the saddle, congratulating himself, and shouting good natured jests at the other Wildling men who rode nearby. The hunt was going extremely well, exactly as he had planned. In the short time, and small distance they had traveled he had already felled three large reindeer, several plump white hairs, and snow fox. Tormund grinned thinking of how quickly Selmund was growing and how his boy would soon be moved to a small bed he was making. He thought softly to himself that the pristine fox pelt would make a perfect addition to the little cradle which stood by the side of his marriage bed for the new babe Brienne would bear him. It seemed nothing could interfere with his plans for a successful hunt.

No sooner had the thought left his mind, than he spied another hefty deer in his sites. Tormund raised his bow and took quick aim. He pulled back on the string, certain he was giving it just the right amount of tension to sail straight through the heart of the beast. Just as he loosed the arrow and sent it flying, the sound of his name being shouted across the snow broke his concentration, and cause the projectile to go hurtling directly to the ground.

“Ah, Buggering Hells!” Tormund shouted, angry at having had his perfect shot ruined, and the day’s momentum interrupted. Whoever it was that had just cost his family a moon of meals was about to get the worst beat down of his life. He whirled around on his mount to the sight of Jon Snow barreling across the tundra at full gallop.

Surprised to see his friend, Tormund’s mood immediately changed. “I thought we weren’t going to see you for a moon or two. You’re supposed to be at Winterfell, aren’t you?” Tormund laughed, raising his hand in greeting. He had not noticed the serious look on Jon’s face.

Tormund stopped his horse and waited for Jon to reach him. “You owe me a big bull.” He challenged. “I had that one dead to rights, until you distracted me.” He laughed heartily.

Jon’s urgency could not wait even for greetings. “Tormund, listen to me.” Jon silenced his jovial friend. “Sansa received a raven from Kings Landing. Lord Tyrion told her Jaime Lannister is alive, and was heading North for Brienne.” Jon’s tone grew more serious with each moment that passed. “Tyrion wrote that Ser Jaime was not in his right mind, and he feared for what his brother might do.”

Tormund’s face went red with rage, as his heart beat raced. “Alive?” He shouted. “That Lannister Fucker sure as the Hells must not be in his right mind if he thinks he can take my wife.” Tormund scoffed, yet his tone was tinged with dread. Just as he was turning his mount and preparing to spur the animal back to the village, Tormund heard someone else screaming for him over the snow.

“Papa!” Anya shouted racing down the hill that stood between them and the village, on someone else’s horse. “Papa!” She exclaimed again, before pulling her ride to a stop next to her father and Jon.

“Anya!” Tormund bellowed. “What are you doing out here?” After hearing the news about Jaime Lannister he could not hide his aggravation at her disobedience. “I told you it’s too dangerous for you out here.” He scolded.

“Papa!” Anya interrupted him. “You need to come home. Now!” She demanded, and barely took a breath before continuing. “Munda and I saw a strange man going into your hut. Munda sent me to get you, and she went to help Brienne.” She looked quizzically at her father. “The man acted odd, and I think he only had one hand.”

The color drained from Tormund’s face. He and Jon turned to each other in dread. “Lannister.” They both voiced their fear at once.

Tormund could not be restrained. He kicked his mount hard in the side and was speeding up the hill back to village before solid thoughts formed in his mind, Jon and Anya hard on his heels. Blood in his eyes, terror in his heart, Tormund was fully ready to slice Jaime Lannister in half. He prayed he would find that Brienne, and Munda, and the babies were unharmed. He swore that if the Kingkiller had touched one hair on his family‘s heads, that he would die today. Even if Lannister had not touched them at all, Tormund still wanted him dead.  
———————————————  
The atmosphere inside the little skin hut was more like a stand off. Brienne had managed to calm her racing heart. Her baby and body no longer reacted to the coursing of her blood. She was relieved that all seemed well, and the babe that burgeoned in her belly had relaxed. Brienne was certain that the Jaime she had known would not hurt her. However, the man who stood before them now had been through so much. She could only hope his sentiments toward her were as protective. She began to grow agitated as Selmund, who had not filled his hungry stomach with porridge, began to cry for his mother’s attentions. Her own body was reacting to his cries. Her discomfort and need to feed him were becoming overwhelming.

Jaime realized Brienne’s distress, and could not bear it. “Please.” He offered kindly, his face softening. “Tend to your child. I will not hurt you.” His eyes swept over Brienne, Selmund, and Munda.

Something deep within her believed his words. However, Brienne was not ready to fully trust this man who had been dead to her for so very long. She drew the blade from its hiding place in her skirts, and handed it to Munda. “If he moves, slit his throat.” Brienne instructed the girl, who she knew was fully capable of doing exactly as she described, her eye not straying from Jaime.

Munda took hold of the knife, and stood guardedly between Brienne and this man she did not know. Jamie could not blame Brienne for her caution. He had intruded into her life. He still hoped, that once her shock abated, she would look upon him with the same love he had left behind. He had been the one who left. Of course it would take some time for her to forgive him, and to trust him. Jaime prayed it would not be too long. He had hoped they would be on their way before Giantsbane returned.

Brienne lifted her hungry, and now squalling son from his cradle. She soothed him, as she slipped behind Munda and perched on the corner of the bed, her back to Jaime. Munda watched him nervously, and kept the knife held high at the ready. Jaime’s gaze remained on Brienne’s form as she modestly slipped the shift she wore from around her shoulder and drew her son to her side, draping him over her large belly. Her back was still turned to shield herself from his view. Jaime could see the top of the boy’s head as he relaxed into his mother, and nursed from her happily.

Again, Jaime was tormented by the knowledge that the babe resting pleasantly in Brienne’s arms and the one growing within her would have been his, if only he had been true to the woman he loved, and not the one who controlled him. He lost himself imagining that the boy she cradled would have his golden curls, along with his mother’s brilliant blue eyes. He saw her sitting with their children on the terraced bluffs at Casterly Rock, or in the lush meadows of Tarth. Brienne was an excellent mother. He marveled at the gentleness and care with which she held her son. As Brienne gently moved Selmund to her other side, Jaime saw the profile of her face as she gazed down at her son. The look with which she regarded the child exuded such love and fulfillment, that he could almost see her holding the children he hoped to have with her in the future. If only he could convince her. If only he could help her remember that it was him she truly loved.

Brienne finished feeding her son, and replaced her garment around her shoulders. She secured the ties that held her shift together and rose, holding her groggy son on her hip. Selmund’s head drifted blissfully unaware onto his mother’s shoulder. Quickly, Brienne returned to her protective place beside Munda and took back the blade from the still frightened girl. This time, however, Brienne lowered it. Jaime notice the gesture of acceptance. She knew he would not harm them. He stared at her from across the room, unsure where to begin. For the first time, it began to dawn on him, that Brienne would have a say in the grand plan he had devised. It seemed that she may not wish to leave this tiny tent in the middle of the cold barren snow. Part of him thought that he should just turn and go, but that was what he had done so long ago. At the very least he owed her an explanation. He owed her an apology. Perhaps that would bring her love for him fresh to her mind. Before Jaime could find his voice, a long sharp blade flashed in front of his eyes from behind, and came to rest at his throat.

“What are you doing in MY home, with MY wife, and MY children?” Tormund’s rasp seethed behind Jaime as the Wilding held the knight tightly at bay, his long hunting knife ready to draw blood.

He had pulled Jaime’s elbows behind him before the tattered lion, who was once one of the greatest fighters in Westeros, had even realized the angry wild man had entered the hut. All Jaime could see was Jon Snow standing beside him holding his own great blade at his ribs. He stood motionless and did not care if Giantsbane slit his throat. He almost hoped that would be his end this day. It would be far more pleasant than realizing his suspicion, that Brienne’s heart may truly no longer hold him dear.

“Tormund.” Brienne called to her husband, relieved he was finally there.

Jon nodded to his friend over Jaime’s shoulder, and the weapon was lowered from his throat as Tormund rushed to Brienne’s side, Anya following closely behind him. Jaime relaxed for only a moment as Jon raised the point of his long sword to take the place of Tormund’s blade, holding him still, and ready to thrust. Jaime was able to turn his head, enough to see Giantsbane engulf Brienne in his arms, their eldest child between them and his hand coming to rest atop their babe in her belly. She melted into his embrace.

“Are you alright?” Tormund questioned her urgently.

“I’m fi...” Brienne began. “We’re fine.” She smiled adoringly at him, placing her hand over his protective touch on her abdomen. She rested her face against his, reveling in his nearness. He saw proudly, the blade Brienne held for defense.

Tormund raised his eyes to check the brave young woman standing defensively beside his wife. “Munda?” He reached out for a moment to clasp his daughter’s shoulder, his eyes brimming with pride and gratitude.

Munda nodded her head assuredly, still staring a hole in Jaime. “Yes, Papa. I’m fine.” She answered strongly. Anya wasted no time taking her place at her sister’s side.

Having ensured that his family was unharmed, Tormund spun furiously on Jamie. He stepped away from Brienne and wielded his blade yet again. “Did you really think you could come here, to my land, to my home, and take what’s mine?” He scoffed rhetorically.

Jaime all but ignored Tormund’s posturing. His entire focus was on Brienne. He cared nothing for the opinions of the others in the room. He knew his words would make him sound weak. It mattered not. He thought to himself that perhaps he should be humiliated. He deserved it for ever leaving Brienne. Maybe that would help her understand the honesty behind his words. Again, he saw the dreams he had held for the time they would be finally reunited. “I had hoped there would be no need for me to take you.” Jaime addressed Brienne. “My wish was that you would come with me willingly.” He said to her with desperate longing in his eyes.

Standing protectively in front of Brienne, Tormund blustered with rage. “Oh. That’s it!” He bellowed. “Jon, Hold him down.” He ordered. “I’m going to gut this cocksucker, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.” He smiled in blood thirsty anticipation.

Tormund remembered how the Kingkiller had hurt Brienne. He remembered the pain that rested in her eyes, and plagued her thoughts when they had first begun to travel for Queen Sansa. Even if that pain had been for another man, he could not stand it then and he would not abide Lannister causing her more grief now. Brienne was his wife, and the thought of anyone thinking they could take her heart for him, was an insult to which he could not submit.

“Tormund.” Brienne spoke calmly, silencing her husband as she tucked the short blade she had drawn into the pocket of her gown. “Ser Jaime is a guest in our home. We will receive him with the same courtesy as any other.” She spoke formally and apathetically as if she were referring to an envoy from Queen Sansa, or the leader of another clan. Tormund squirmed beside her, eager to slice Jaime apart. She stepped next to him and whispered softly into his ear as she laid her hand upon his arm. “There is no reason for you to be troubled, My Love.” Brienne reassured him. “He will be gone soon.” She looked deeply into his eyes, and his soul was calmed by the depths of hers. Brienne eyed Jon and nodded to him. He lowered his sword from Jaime’s throat, but kept it aimed at his ribcage.

Brienne looked again at Jaime, her brow furrowing as she regarded the man who had broken her heart, that now had the audacity to think she would abandon everything for him. “Did you expect that I would leave my husband, my family, my child?” She probed, unable to believe what she was hearing.

“I expected that when you saw I was alive, you would remember that it is me you love.” Jaime confessed, seeing only Brienne. Tormund chuckled with mocking laughter. Jaime continued his plea. “I was a broken man when I arrived in Essos. My body was shattered.” He told her. “It took me so very long to heal from my injuries, and then again to travel to you.” He needed to explain to her, but did not want her pity. He had earned none of the compassion he admired in her. “My only thoughts were of you, Brienne. The hope of returning to you and somehow winning back your love was the only reason I survived. You were all that kept me alive.” He fought the tears that sprang to his eyes. “I love you. I have always loved you.” He proclaimed.

Somewhere deep within Brienne an old rawness wanted to scream at Jaime that if he had loved her, he would not have left her. Part of her wanted to laugh in his face. There was even a bit of her that wanted to allow Tormund to unleash his fury upon Jaime. Then it occurred to her that Jaime’s reasons, or even his actions in leaving her no longer mattered. It was the thought of her husband that settled her. She spoke with the assurance of a woman who had found all she wanted in life. She understood regretfully that Jaime was in pain and that she would have to destroy the hope that had sustained him for so long, but her heart and her loyalty now belonged to Tormund. Jaime had become but a painful memory for her, and one which now barely crossed her mind.

“I was a fool.” Jaime shook his head mournfully. “I should never have left you.” He admitted, the regret that had plagued him lining his face.

Brienne was quiet for a moment. She truly did not want to hurt Jaime, but she could not allow him to spend anymore time hoping for something that would never be. “Oh, Jaime.” She began softly, and then looked at Tormund tenderly before continuing. “I thank the Gods that you did.”

Brienne forced herself to continue. “Yes, I grieved when you left me. You hurt me deeply.” Her troubled expression echoed her words. I mourned for you when the reports of your death reached Winterfell.” She admitted. “I did want you then. I wanted you to have chosen me.” Brienne shook her head remembering the pain at watching him ride away into the night. She grew silent, choosing her words carefully. When she spoke again there was no bitterness, there did not need to be. “Don’t you see? There would have always been someone between us.” Brienne did not need to speak Cersei’s name, Jaime knew what she meant. Brienne’s eyes were filled with compassion as she continued. Jaime could tell that the broken heart he had inflicted upon her had long since been healed by another. “I do not know what it was that we had then. Perhaps it was love.” She acknowledged. “You never gave us the chance to find out.” She watched Jaime with empathy, as his face fell in shame. She knew the pain of a heart shattering in one’s own breast. “If you had not left, my life would be very different.” She agreed. “I would not have grown close to Tormund.” Brienne gazed at her husband saddened by the thought of a fate which had not occurred. “I would not have fallen in love with him. Would not have married him, nor born him children.” She closed her eyes to catch the tears welling at the thought. With one hand she caressed the life that she and Tormund had created which thrived within her womb, while the gentle fingers of her other hand brushed against Selmund’s soft cheek. “And a life without them is one I could not bear.” She declared. “You left, Jaime, and my life went on. It had to.” Her tone became even more serious. “Perhaps we might have been happy, we shall never know.” Brienne moved her gaze to Tormund and reached for his hand. “What I do know, is that whatever we had, it was not like this. And I could never imagine a life without the man I love.” She said, never taking her eyes from her husband. Tormund took Brienne’s grasp in his and stood as proud as the day they had married. She held his eyes lovingly for a long moment as he returned her adoration.

Slowly, Brienne turned back to Jaime. “I am glad that I was able to be a source of comfort to you during your long recovery.” She told him, trying to be kind. “I truly wish you the best of everything.” She hoped for him. “And, I am sorry you have journeyed all this way.” Brienne looked at Jaime sympathetically and shook her head softly. “But there is nothing here for you.” With those words it was she this time who broke his heart. She, who made her choice. 

Brienne looked at Tormund, all they had shared running through her mind. Nothing within her could imagine leaving her family. She would sooner give her life willingly than to separated from them. Gripping her husband’s fingers even tighter, Brienne smiled, and although it was Jaime she was addressing, it was as if he were no longer there. Her words were a declaration to Tormund. “I am madly ...deeply ...desperately in love with my husband.” Brienne announced, and stepped closer to the man she adored. The man she had married and made a home with. The father of her children. Tormund drew Brienne into his arms and held her close.

Jaime watched mournfully as Brienne and Tormund shared the passionate kiss of a strong and happy marriage. Seeing the love they shared thrust Jaime from his vision of the life he desired with her. He could almost see his dreams crumble to the ground before him. It was clear she had not loved him for a long time. Her heart truly did belong to Giantsbane. Jaime had given up his chance that she would ever be his when he climbed on that horse in the courtyard at Winterfell and rode away. She was someone else’s wife. She was the mother of another man’s children. She belonged here. This was Brienne’s home, and her family. This was her world, now. For the first time Jaime realized that she would not go with him. He had made a choice long ago, and she had made hers. Although his heart was shattering inside his chest, he could not ask her to leave. She would not go. He certainly could not take her by force. She would hate him forever, if he tried. Jaime would have to love her enough to give her up, to give up even the hope of her. Her memory would need to be enough, forever. Perhaps it was his first step on the path to the honor he had always wanted, the honor that would have made him worthy of her.

Fighting the tears he knew would overwhelm him later, Jaime lowered his head in defeat. “Then there is no reason for me to be here.” Jaime lamented, his entire body going numb at his heartbreak. His eyes fell upon Oathkeeper strapped at his waist. He pulled it from his belt and held it out to Brienne. “I brought this for you.” He told her, hoping she would take it.

Brienne looked at the shining Valerian steel weapon that had so proudly hung at her side. She thought it strange that there was no longing in her to hold it once again. She realized that thoughts of Oathkeeper had been replaced by so many other thing, as had thoughts of Jaime. She was pleased that Lord Tyrion had taken such good care of it, “I am happy to see it has been so well kept.” She smiled fondly.

“My brother took the responsibility with which you entrusted him, very seriously.” Jaime agreed, then he paused and studied the blade. He ran his fingers over the hilt. “I told you when I gave it to you, that it is yours.” Jaime repeated his vow of long ago. “It will always be yours.” He stretched out his arm for her to take back her sword. He would have no need of it. He would leave it with her. 

Brienne knew that he did not mean the weapon. The treasure he was asking her keep was his heart, just as it had been the day he presented her with the fine gift. Now however, she had no wish to possess it. It was the very reason she had needed to give up Oathkeeper. It had tied her to Jaime, and she had been desperate to move on with her life. She had done so, and she no longer needed it. Brienne shook her head slightly. “No, Ser Jaime.” She refused. “I cannot accept it.” She watched his shoulders fall.

He stood there struggling for a purpose that would cause her to take it. “You are Ser Brienne of Tarth.” He straightened and said with pride. “A knight of the Seven Kingdoms needs such a glorious weapon.” He declared.

Brienne smiled as she felt Tormund’s child move within her. She brought her eyes to look upon him and their son. Then she smiled warmly at Munda and Anya beside them. Finally, bringing her attention back to Jaime, Brienne stood resolute. “I will always be Ser Brienne of Tarth. It is an honor I hold in the highest esteem. I will always be grateful to you for bestowing the knighthood upon me.” She could feel tears welling behind her eyes. “But my name is Brienne Giantsbane, of the Free Folk, and it is everything I want to be.” She smiled widely at Tormund, who returned her gaze proudly.

Jaime could not help but regard Brienne with awe. She had declared her identity as Tormund’s wife, and as a Free Folk woman as proudly, and with as much conviction as the day she had knelt before him and accepted her knighthood. Even if she did not want him, Jaime could not help but feel his love for Brienne grow even more overpowering than the worship that had kept him alive since he had walked away from her. He knew there would never be anyone who would replace her in his life. He would love her until the day they laid him upon his pyre, and after that, thoughts of her would be his salvation on whatever Hell would take him. Jaime understood that he would have to find a way to live with his heart broken and ripped from his chest. Standing in Brienne’s home, surrounded by her family, Jaime knew he would be leaving the North alone. Without Brienne, there would be no hope, no joy except for the knowledge that she was happy, safe, and loved. It would be the only comfort he would ever have. Perhaps it was all he deserved.

Jaime swallowed the lump in his throat, and spoke from his heart. “I need you to know.” He faltered, his mind reeling with all that would have to be left unsaid. “I am sorry.” Jaime trailed off, unable to say anymore.

“I know.” Brienne comforted, even as she leaned against her husband’s supportive arms.

Jaime suddenly felt like an intruder. “I should go.” He said quietly, taking a long last look at Brienne’s astonishing blue eyes. Gods, he would always see them in his dreams. Brienne simply nodded her understanding.

“I will see you safely on your way.” Jon offered, sheathing his sword. He wanted to ensure that Jaime Lannister was soon be far away from the people he considered family.

Jaime turned to go, clutching Oathkeeper to him, but stopped just short of the doorway. He straightened and inhaled deeply, his chest filling to its full girth. He wished to make himself appear the Lannister Lion that he wanted Brienne to remember. Jaime suddenly turned and retraced his steps until he was within arms reach of Brienne and her family. “Giantsbane.” Jaime’s tone rose with reluctant respect, as he held out his hand to shake that of the man who had won Brienne.

Tormund eyed him suspiciously and took a step in front of a Brienne to meet his rival. Jaime’s hand remained outstretched, as a peace offering. “You are a lucky, lucky man.” Jaime declared.

Tormund scrutinized Jaime for a moment. He had been ready to spring at the man who had proclaimed love for his wife. Now, he realized that Lannister had not truly been a challenger for Brienne’s affections at all. He had to feel sorry for the man. He had once spent a time bemoaning the love Brienne did not feel for him. Now, it was he who possessed her heart, and the Kingkiller would be the one living the rest of his life without it.

Tormund reached out proudly and accepted Jaime’s handshake. “That I am, Ser Jaime.” He chose to invoke the man’s title instead of the nickname he had always used to refer to him. “That I am.” He repeated as he pulled back his arm and draped it confidently around Brienne. She was his, forever. Tormund gave Brienne a seductive look. She returned his gaze as if they were the only ones in the room.

After a long moment, Brienne turned her eyes from her husband’s administration. “Goodbye, Ser Jaime.” Brienne spoke formally. He could only stare at her for a moment, his eyes soft with the love he would always feel for her. Finally, Jaime lowered his head respectfully in their home, and left quietly without the prize he had hoped to attain. Jon followed him to guarantee he would not return.

Within the little skin hut, Tormund took Brienne in his arms. She relaxed into him, their little son between them. Anya and Munda embraced them both from behind. Husband and wife shared an amorous kiss that threatened to overcome their abilities to stop. The girls stepped away and rolled their eyes at each other. They were very used to the demonstrations of love their father and Brienne often enjoyed.

Without taking his eyes from Brienne who stared lustfully back, Tormund addressed his daughters. “Girls..” He began.

Anya interrupted him. “We know.” She grinned. “Time to go.” She nudged her sister, both trying to control their snickering. “Can we take Selmund?” She begged.

“Uh huh.” Brienne nodded, smiling at Tormund. She slipped the baby from her hip into Munda’s outstretched arms.

Desperately trying to hold their urges at bay for a while longer, Brienne and Tormund barely noticed as the girls bundled up Selmund and themselves. “We’ll bring him back later.” Munda told Brienne as they stepped through the door, knowing full well they would have to fight their mothers for anytime with the child. The enjoyment both Daggma and Hetty derived from caring for Selmund was well known, and they doted on the boy.

“That’ll be fine, Dear.” Brienne smiled, but could not tear her gaze from Tormund.

Finally alone, Brienne and Tormund had no reason to suppress their passions. They kissed each other hungrily, mouths searching and tasting as they began to relieve each other of their clothing. Wearing less, Brienne was the first to find herself standing in the room completely naked, her garment deposited unceremoniously on the ground. Her body shivered but not from the cold. She longed for the pleasures to come. She quickly disrobed her husband as their searching hands probed every inch of the other’s flesh, setting their nerves on fire.

Tormund gathered Brienne up and held her close to his skin. He broke from their deep kiss and gazed into his wife’s eyes. She smiled so lovingly at him that he could not breath. “I love you, Brienne Giantsbane.” He smiled.

Brienne returned his stare with equal passion, so happy that it was him to whom she had given her heart, her love, and her life. She brought her hands to hold his face near her own. “I love you.” She swore. “Always.” Brienne declared. Bodies reacting excitedly to each other, need barely containable, Tormund carried Brienne across the room and laid her down on the bed to enjoy his rightful place as her husband.

—————————-  
Outside, Jon led his horse into the woods as Jaime retrieved his mount. He was determined to see The Kingslayer as far from the Wilding village as he could, so that Jaime Lannister would burden his friends no more. Once Jaime was seated on the horse he had stolen at Hardhomme, they traveled slowly along the path that would take Jaime away from Brienne. They rode in silence for most of the way, climbing the towering rocky pass through the foothills that protected the encampment. Even after an hour, the small speck in the valley that was the village could be seen behind them.

Although, Jon sat pensively ready to dispatch Lannister should he present a problem, Jaime did not protest. There was no reason for him to put a fight. Brienne did not want him. She loved Giantsbane now. Even if Jaime had killed Tormund, Brienne would have avenged her husband’s death. Perhaps he should have tried. Dying must have been preferable to leaving his heart on this Gods forsaken frozen wasteland. There was no place for him.

Jaime’s thoughts were distracted by Jon’s low,voice. “We should be past that rise by nightfall.” He pointed to a mountain peak far ahead of them. “We’ll make camp for the night then.”

“How far do you intend to accompany me?” Jaime smirked.

“As far as I need to.” Jon answered sternly. He could not help but feel a note of pity for Lannister. This day was obviously ending much differently than the man had hoped.

“I will not intrude upon them again.” Jaime assured him. “It would do me no good, anyway.” He answered, not taking his eyes from the trail.

“All the same.” Jon insisted. “I’ll see that you’re safely on your way.”

Jaime nodded, seeing that no amount of debate would change the young man’s mind. From somewhere, he almost felt a kinship with Jon Snow. They had both killed their monarch’s, and been reviled for doing so, even if they had no choice. He had stabbed King Aerys Targaryen in the back to save a city. Jon had plunged his dagger into Daenarys Targaryen’s heart to save the kingdom. What he felt most keenly in common with Jon Snow, however, was that they had both lost the women they loved, through their own actions. He noted the coincidences between them in his mind, and continued on in silence, trying not to think of Brienne but failing miserably in that attempt.

As they reached the peak of the summit that would descend into yet another valley. Jaime drew his horse to a halt. Jon tensed, unsure what his charge was planning. He watched warily as Jaime’s hand went to his belt, where the two massive swords hung. Jon started to reach for Longclaw, but Jaime waved off his fear.

“Do not be alarmed.” Jaime shook his head. “I present no threat. He unlatched Oathkeeper from his side, and handed the great sword and it’s scabbard to Jon. The younger man took hold of the weapon eyeing Jamie with confusion as the knight removed his own sword, Widow’s Wail, and held it away from him as well.

“These swords were forged from the steel of Ned Stark’s great weapon.” Jaime began, avoiding Jon’s questioning glare. “They protected Winterfell during the Battle.” He continued, remembering how he and Brienne had stood together as one then against the dead. “I would ask that you please return them to Queen Sansa. They belong in Stark hands.” Jaime admitted, lowering his head and giving possession of Widow’s Wail over to Jon.

Jon accepted Jaime’s peace offering, and bowed in reverence at his sacrifice, realizing the man posed no more danger. “What of you, Ser Jaime?” He asked. “You will need a weapon.” Jon reminded him.

Without Brienne at his side, Jaime had no will to ever raise a sword again. “I have a dagger. It will be sufficient.” He assured Jon.

“The Queen in the North will be grateful to have her father’s steel back in it’s rightful place.” Jon spoke formally. “You have carried it well. Thank you, Ser Jaime.” Jon nodded his praise.

Again, a quiet fell over the two riders as they continued their path to the south. The only sounds to be heard were the plodding of their horse’s hooves through the snow, and the rushing of the howling wind. Every step took Jaime farther from the woman he loved. He would never see Brienne again.  
——————————————  
Later that afternoon, Brienne emerged happily from her hut. She was wrapped in warm furs, and held a large cooking pot. Gathering snow to melt on the fire, she readied to prepare a meal for herself and Tormund. They had spent the last glorious hours together reaffirming their love and commitment. Secure that their family was safe, Brienne understood that the hunt, and its success, had meant a great deal to Tormund this year and she insisted that he rejoin the other village men after she made sure he was well taken care of. She knew he had eaten nothing that morning, and after the events of the afternoon, she wanted to send him off happy and sustained in several ways.

As she bent stiffly and heavily to fill the cooking pot with snow, Brienne allowed herself to think one more time of Jaime. In her wildest imagination she could never have envisioned that he was alive, or that she would ever see him again. What had surprised Brienne the most about his reappearance was the lack of emotion she had felt for him. They had once meant so much to each other, she felt there should have been some lingering affection or even anger. As he had stood only feet from her, she realized that the only desire she held for him now was the hope that he would be blessed with a satisfying and full life, as she had.

Brienne’s thoughts swirled joyfully with memories of Tormund, and the life they had built. She would not trade one moment with Tormund Giantsbane for a thousand lifetimes with Jaime Lannister. She smiled at the thought of how much she cherished her husband. She wished that Jaime had not suffered the physical pain he had gone through. She also regretted that he had spent so long dreaming of her only to have all his hopes dashed. She would never wish that kind of pain for him, she knew all to well how it felt. Brienne said a prayer to the Gods that Jaime would somehow find peace and happiness. She hoped that he would experience the same happiness that she had found.

As she stood, Brienne’s eyes fell upon the tracks that led to the forest beyond. One of those sets of footprints belonged to Jaime. With the wind and the drifting snow, they would be gone by morning. There would be nothing left of him in her life. With that thought her gaze shifted to the pass that led from the village through the mountains. Brienne knew Jaime had been led away by Jon over those rocky slopes. He was truly gone, and she would never see him again.

She rested the cooking pot against her side, and breathed in the cold air deeply. “Farewell.” She whispered in the direction Jaime would have left, a last dedication to what they had once meant to each other.

Brienne felt the soft flutter of her babe moving within her. The sensation brought her thoughts joyfully back to the present. Her hand lovingly caressed the bulge of her belly. She turned and made her way heavily back toward the little sanctuary within which her husband waited for her. Brienne bit her lip thinking about the man she loved, her eyes growing playful. She wondered if there would be time for more love making before dinner. Almost as the thought crossed her mind, she chuckled. What was she thinking? Brienne shook her head at her own folly and laughed out loud. She was married to Tormund Giantsbane. There was always time for love making.


	18. Chapter 18 - Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The love between Brienne and Tormund flourishes as their family grows. Jaime must find a way to build a life without Brienne. Westeros continues, and Brienne and Tormund build a strong and enduring legacy. Jaime finds the honor he was always meant to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is it. The last chapter, The Epilogue. See what happens to Brienne, Tormund, and Jaime after The Kingslayer leaves the North without Brienne.

Two moons after Jaime Lannister left the North without Brienne, she presented her husband, Tormund, with their second child. She had again correctly predicted their baby’s gender, as she would with all of their children. Their eldest daughter arrived near midday, and they called her Annalyse, a name inspired by that of one of Brienne’s departed sisters. The infant joined her brother Selmund as he had come into the world, delivered by the midwife, Vrenna, on a fur spread across the floor of their warm hut surrounded by her entire family. Munda and Anya again assisted Brienne’s delivery. The babes were followed soon after by two more sons and another girl. Their next child, a boy Galladon, was the namesake of Brienne’s dear brother who had died in childhood. Their youngest daughter’s name was again found in that of Brienne’s sister, and sounded much like her own. Rianne was the spitting image of her mother, and the only one of their children who wore her sunny yellow hair. Not long after, they named their youngest son once more for his father and grandfather. Torwyn was the baby of the family and was doted on by all of them. Munda and Anya filled their house of nine. Tormund was certain there had never been a happier, more complete family in all of the Seven Kingdoms.

Over the years, as their children grew strong, the deep love and devotion between Brienne and Tormund strengthened and flourished. Brienne thrived in her role as wife and mother, North of the Wall. She also became a respected and revered member of the village, as Tormund was already. They were leaders in their frozen world, and saw to their community as they did their family with kindness, caring, and ferocious protectiveness. Queen Sansa had once described Brienne perfectly. She was every bit the vigilant, watchful mother bear. She was also the most devoted and adoring wife. Her husband and children were her entire world. Tormund never once took the blessings he had been given for granted. He was the proudest husband and father in the entire Realm. Together, he and Brienne raised a legacy from their love.

Bran Stark had been correct in what he had told Queen Sansa about Brienne and Tormund, their destiny, and the family they would raise. It seemed their name and blood were to be forever entwined in both the history and future of not only The North, but the whole of Westeros. The family remained close to Queen Sansa and her husband Sandor Clegane, as well as their six children. In her eighteenth year, Annalyse would marry the Queen’s eldest son, Robb Stark Clegane. While his older sister, Elinore would sit the throne in the North, and her line would rule from Winterfell, it was the descendants of the three children that Annalyse gave Robb who would cement the bond between the North and the Land Beyond The Wall.

Rianne remained close to her parents. She wed a son of one of the elders of their village. She was as fierce a protector as her mother, whom she looked exactly like. She was also as loving a mother to her four children as Brienne had been to her and her brothers and sisters. Anya, also made her life in their village, her calling was to be a fighter as well. Brienne and Tormund taught her well, and Anya along with her man and their two children became defenders of their village. Torwyn married a sweet farm girl from near Mole’s Town, and happily raised his family of five on a modest plot of land just south of The Wall.

Galladon was bestowed title and lands on Tarth, becoming a bannerman to The Evenstar. He fell deeply in love with a village girl, and brought his Wildling wife to his mother’s ancestral island, to become a southern lady. They raised their four children in warm sunshine, and were happy for all of their days. Munda was introduced to the son of a distant cousin of Brienne’s during one of the family’s trips to Tarth, visiting Lord Selwyn. Several years later, she stood in the Godswood at Evenfall, that young man’s bride. She gave her husband six sons, and took them North often to visit their grandparents, and learn the ways of her people.

Despite the distance between himself and his family, as well as his advancing age, Lord Selwyn visited Beyond the Wall regularly. He swore that not a year would pass without him enjoying his grandchildren. He was fascinated by the Real North, and it took him no time to feel at home in the Wildling village. Tormund and Brienne traveled to Tarth with their family several times over the years, eager for their children to know both of their heritages. It had been decided that, as the eldest heir to House Tarth, Selmund would become The Evenstar when the time decreed. The boy understood the importance of his future title. He loved Tarth, he loved his grandfather, and he had inherited the same intense sense of honor and duty that had made his mother the first woman knight in Westeros. He would accept his role with pride and integrity.

In his seventeenth year, Selmund was called to Tarth by his grandfather. He would begin his stewardship at Evenfall, and learn all that came along with becoming the lord of House Tarth. Brienne’s proud smile shown brightly even through her tears as she bid goodbye to her son and sent him upon the path of his duty. On the young man’s twenty-first Nameday, an aging and ailing Lord Selwyn anointed his daughter’s eldest son, Selmund Giantsbane of Tarth, the Evenstar. Lord Selmund soon after, married the beautiful young first daughter of House Rowan from the Reach, thus strengthening the influence of his house across the middle of Westeros. The advantageousness of the union was only a happy benefit to another Giantsbane marriage founded in deep and enduring love. Selmund and his wife Maliya, adored each other and were as deliciously happy as his parents always were. They would give Brienne and Tormund four grandchildren.  
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Jaime returned to Casterly Rock after his failed quest to win back Brienne’s heart. He had nowhere else to go. At first, he brooded. No balm could ease his broken heart. No liquor could create a haze thicker than his memory. No pit could have ever been deep enough to bury him in his misery. Being the oldest Lannister heir, Jaime was now Lord of The Rock. Tyrion, busy in the capital with his duties as Hand of The King, was happy for his brother to assume the position of Lord Lannister. Jaime hated his own home, the place where his memories were of Cersei. There was nothing of Brienne in this place, save for the aching longing in his soul.

“I cannot be here, Tyrion” Jaime confided to his brother several moons after he left the North, while the younger Lannister was visiting to check on him.

“She is the only thing upon which my mind will settle .” Jaime lamented. “Even the silence speaks her name.” Every moment of his existence in his massive sprawling fortress, Jaime thoughts were consumed with Brienne.

Tyrion had forced Jaime a top his horse within minutes, and rode him all the way to Lannisport. Lord Lannister received a personal tour of some of the more broken down places Tyrion had frequented while carousing in his younger days. Jaime was speechless at the poverty he encountered. Women begged in the street for food with which to feed their emaciated children. Men, some handicapped, some downtrodden, some obviously addicted to all sorts of demons prowled the streets. Orphans, were left to mercy of any predator whose path they happened to cross.

“I have never seen this place.” Jaime declared, confused.

Tyrion gave him a glare that partly smacked of irony, and was partly tinged with disgust at how sheltered Jaime had been.

“Do you think Tywin would have allowed his great golden lion in a place like this?” He chuckled. “You and Cersei barely left The Rock during our youth.” Tyrion reminded him.

“Why bring me here?” Jaime questioned, regarding the magnitude of human suffering around him. “Is this meant to make me feel better?” He rolled his eyes.

“What would Brienne do if she saw these poor people?” Tyrion suggested.

The ghost of a smile passed Jaime’s face. His thoughts went to the depths of Brienne’s caring. “She would be feeding and clothing them all, and trying to open Casterly Rock to shelter them.” He grinned. It was the first time he had smiled in weeks.

Tyrion raised him a quizzical eyebrow, and turned a serious face to Jaime. “You have lived like a dead man long enough.” He asserted. “Brienne is happy with her family in the North. She is living her life. It is time you returned to yours.” Tyrion eyed his brother, judgmentally.

“How?” Jaime shot back. “Without Brienne, there is nothing for me.” His voice faltered, as he thought again that the woman he loved would never be his.

“You cannot be with her.” Tyrion agreed. “But you can honor her.” He continued. It was Jaime’s turn to raise a brow. “Live a life of purpose and meaning, in service to others.” Tyrion turned to study the inhabitants of the streets, guiding his brother’s glance to the poverty around them. “Not to kings and lords. You’ve done that bit. Look where it got you.” Jaime snorted his understanding at Tyrion’s meaning.

“What can I offer these people?” Jaime shook his head remorsefully.

“You are an important man, with a vast estate and huge fortune.” Tyrion began. “You could help them better than anyone.” He stated emphatically. “You do not need to be the Kingslayer all your life.” He offered “You could be the man that Brienne always saw in you. The man you were always meant to be.” Tyrion turned back to Jaime with a twinkle in his eye. He was surprised at how quickly the idea seemed to take root in his brother’s mind.

From that day, forward, Jaime devoted himself to helping the poor and needy of the Westerlands and anywhere else his influence could reach. He worked countless hours to improve the lives of the destitute. He spent much of his vast wealth providing for those in need. His ancestral home became a shelter, an infirmary, a school, whatever was called for to help those who had not known the same fortunate accident of birth he had. No one whispered ‘Kingslayer’ behind his back anymore. No one called him ‘Outlander’ because he did not belong. They smiled, welcomed him, and proclaimed him “Lord Jaime the Generous” to his face. None of his newfound friends, as he thought of them, were ever aware that it was all done for the woman he loved, or that she would never know.

Jaime worked with many of his fellow lords across Westeros during the days of King Bran’s reign. He was surprised at the number of highborn nobles who were also eager to help those under their protection. One of those was Lord Selmund Giantsbane of Tarth, the Evenstar. It was in Kings Landing when Jaime had sought an audience with the King to request his aid in relocating victims of a large forest fire in the Westerlands, that Jaime met Brienne’s grown son.

Jaime had not realized how many years had passed since he had last seen the capital. His body ached and his gate was slow as he trudged through the corridors. It was much different from when last he had sped back to the Red Keep in the worst decision of his life. He had dreaded making the journey. Kings Landing, where he had died, was the last place he wanted to be. He thought there would be too many painful memories there. However, as he walked through the Red Keep, he realized that he had grown past the place where even memories of Cersei could hurt him. Each day, he still woke to thoughts of Brienne, and dreamed of her each night. It was knowing that she lived, and was somewhere happy that gave him the courage to continue his good work. He wished she knew that he had done everything for her. Somehow he had found a purpose, and had lived a life for which Brienne would have been proud.

“You’re Ser Jaime Lannister.” An extremely tall, fiery haired young noble gasped as he passed in the corridor outside the throne room. The man recovered his propriety and corrected himself. “Forgive me.” He begged, flustered. “Lord Lannister.” He bowed.

Jaime turned, at first perplexed as to who might know him in the capital these days. He regarded the younger Lord questioningly. Recognition dawned when Jaime notice the red and blue patch upon the young man’s chest, emblazoned with suns and moons. The sigil of House Tarth. “And you are...The Evenstar.” He had heard that Lord Selwyn had gone to the Heavens and that his grandson, a half Wildling from the True North, had been bestowed the title. This was Brienne’s son. The babe she had protected so fiercely when he had found her in that tiny hut all those years ago. Jaime eyed him with fascination, already seeing Brienne in the man’s face.

“Selmund Giantsbane of Tarth.” He swept low, with a broad smile. Jaime recognized that The Evenstar did not use his title when introducing himself. Undoubtedly a vestige of his Wildling upbringing. Jaime failed to realize he was staring at Selmund in awe.

Selmund stuck his arm out, eager to meet a man now considered a hero. Jaime took his hand and shook it in greeting, unsure if he should be uncomfortable. How much did Selmund know of his past relationship with the young man’s mother.

“My Lord.” Jaime answered. “It is good to meet you.” He acknowledged, his eyes searching Selmund, his thoughts focused on Brienne.

“It is my honor.” Selmund nodded respectfully. As he raised his head, his glance lingered over Jaime. “I believe you know my parents.” He offered pleasantly.

Jaime’s eyes grew distance for a moment, lost in a memory of himself and Brienne, swords flashing side by side. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I fought with...them, at Winterfell.” He said, leaving out the details of that day.

Selmund nodded softly. “Of course.” He smiled thoughtfully.“ Jon Snow has told me about you.” He replied. Jon had been pardoned by King Bran a few years after the death of Daenarys Targaryen, and Queen Sansa had bestowed the Lordship of Dreadfort upon him. Thus, making the onetime bastard of Winterfell a noble. Jaime noticed that Selmund’s knowledge of him had not come from Brienne. He found no fault in that. What could she have told him, anyway?

“He has?” Jaime almost chuckled. “And what has Lord Snow told you of me?” He replied goodnaturedly, nervous at what Selmund’s answer might be.

Selmund looked at Jaime with what could only be called sympathy in his gaze. “That you loved my mother, but that she chose my father.” He answered plainly, and without judgement.

Jamie nodded and smiled to himself. “A wise decision, don’t you think?” He laughed painfully. Selmund lowered his head, but a grin played on his lips.

The pair stood in an awkward silence for a moment, until Jaime spoke again. “How is your mother?” He inquired nervously.

A wide smile broke across Selmund’s face, thinking of her. “She is well.” He reported. “She is a leader in our village, along with my father, of course.” He said proudly.

“Then, your father is also favored with health?” Jaime questioned. He truly hoped that Brienne had not known the heartbreak of widowhood.

Selmund nodded vigorously. “He is. As always.” The young man beamed. “Mama says nothing will bring down the Old Bear.” He laughed affectionately.

Jaime smiled. “And the rest of your family?” He asked. “Forgive me. I was aware of you and one other, as well as two from your father.” Jaime did not know why he was so fascinated by this unexpected news of Brienne, but he felt as if he had to know what her life had held. It made him happy to hear of her.

Again Selmund almost laughed. “We are nine.” He saw Jaime’s eyes widen at the thought. “My mother presented my father with two more sons and two daughters after me, and there were our two readymade sisters, of course.” He continued. “However, it is her grandchildren upon whom my mother now dotes.” His face was warm and thoughtful.

Jaime was left breathless. “Brienne is a grandmother?” Again, he had lost track of the years that had passed since he had last seen her.

“My brothers and sisters and I have given my parents twenty-six.” Selmund answered proudly.

Jaime could not help but regret that Brienne’s children and grandchildren might have been his as well, if only he had stayed with her. His heart pained him at the thought. He studied Selmund, imaging what his blood might have looked like in the boy. It was folly to consider such a thing. It mattered not. It never happened.

Selmund could sense that Lord Lannister was uneasy. The man they once called Lion was lost in a memory. The Evenstar knew Jaime Lannister had been in love with his mother. Jon Snow had told him more than he had mentioned, but he did not wish to cause the Lord of Casterly Rock embarrassment. Selmund knew his mother was an amazing woman. He had been raised amidst the love she and his father shared. He could not imagine how painful losing her must have been. Jon had remarked to him that this man, once believed dead by all, had remained a steadfast bachelor. He hoped that Jaime Lannister had not spent his lifetime mourning the loss her.

“And...You Ser?” Selmund stammered. He knew that at one time, Jaime Lannister had been his father’s rival. He also knew the man had broken his mother’s heart, but he could not help liking this Lord who had become the benefactor of so many. “You...never married?” Selmund asked sympathetically.

Jaime’s expression was wistful. “No.” He shook his head, as if the thought had never occurred to him. How could he tell Brienne’s son that she was the only women for whom his heart had ever yearned. From somewhere, he found words to convey the love he had for her, which still burned warm in his heart. “I once loved the brightest star in the sky, more brilliant even than that very sun and moon on your own sigil.” As he spoke, Jaime saw Brienne as clearly as if she were standing before him. “There was a time she could have loved me, but through my own stupidity, my failure, and my weakness I destroyed that affection. I left her to protect her, but I left her for a lie.” Jaime swallowed the lump in his throat. “It took me years to find my way back to her.” He lamented. “When I returned, I discovered that during that lost time, she had fallen deeply in love with another. My bright, brilliant star had stepped from the Heavens and had been caught in the paws of a big wild bear. She had given her heart to him.” Jaime eyed the ground, knowning that Selmund would realize he was speaking of his mother. “She was happy, and I could not begrudge her that joy. I could not take her from the life she chose. Nor would I wish anyone else for her but her wild northern bear. For there is no other who would cherish her, love her, and protect her as he did.” Jaime smiled. “No, My Lord. I would rather live a thousand lifetimes with only her memory, than share a life with anyone else.” He finished, lost somewhere in time.

Selmund was silent, considering Jaime’s words. It was obvious of whom Lord Lannister spoke. It was clear the man was still very much in love with Selmund’s mother. He was certain that Jaime realized Selmund’s understanding that his own mother had been the bright star in the story. Suddenly the young man was abundantly grateful to Jaime Lannister. If not for his sacrifice, he might not even exist. He studied Jaime with a kind eye, and finally found his voice. “If I may say so, My Lord.” He began. “I am sure, where ever your Lady Love is, she would be extremely proud of the good you have accomplished.” Selmund affirmed. He knew Brienne was the woman for whom Jaime had done all.

Jaime looked embarrassed for a moment. He did not want credit for his charitable works. Even if Brienne never knew, he had done everything for her. All he wanted was her happiness. “Thank you, My Lord.” Was his only answer.

Jaime lived long into his elder years. He continued to see to the needy of Westeros, helping untold multitudes with his work and generosity. Then came the day that he looked upon his final sunrise. Thousands honored his memory. Casterly Rock was surrounded by mourners as Tryion held the flame to Jaime’s pyre and sent his soul to the Heavens. Only the previous day, as Jaime lay on his death bed, Tyrion had watched as his eyes opened for a moment, and his sunken face smiled. Jaime’s gaze floated dreamily around the room, as if he were peering through the years, searching for someone. He still loved the woman of whom he had dreamed for so long. It was as if he saw her in his mind one last time. Then he closed his eyes, as his final breath floated upon the wind. “Brienne.” He called, and died.

In the North busy with her day and her duties, Brienne thought it odd that she should feel the very moment that Jaime’s soul left the world. It came to her in a flash of knowing so strong that it took the breath from her lungs. He had not found her thoughts in so very long. It was not a sadness that enveloped her. She had already mourned him, years before. It was a calmness, a peace that took hold of her. Brienne knew that Jaime was finally at rest. She took a long moment to contemplate his life and all they had once meant to each other. Brienne gave up a silent prayer to the Gods, that they would be merciful. Then she filled her lungs with the cold crisp air of her home, and went on.

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Beyond the Wall, Brienne and Tormund lived a long and joyous life together. They welcomed their aging decades as much in love as they ever were. Still, the passion flowed between them as freely as it did the first time they reveled in each other. Now, however, it was made that much sweeter by the life they had shared together. One night not long after her father, Lord Selwyn, had peacefully gone to The Heavens in his sleep to meet her mother, Brienne lay pensive and awake in her fur covered bed with Tormund.

Tormund had slept for a short while, but somehow as he always did, he sensed Brienne’s mood even in his slumber and awoke to her loving eyes studying his face. He smiled at her as broadly as when he was trying to woo her, and brought his hand up to caress her hair. She marveled that it seemed he never noticed her newest wrinkle, or the gray in her hair. He was still as fierce and strong, and fiendishly handsome as when she had lost her heart to him all those year ago on the roads of the North.

He kissed her forehead, and looked at her with concern. “Are you alright, My Love?” He asked softly.

Brienne laid her hand over his gently, and brought it round to her lips. She kissed his palm and pressed it to her heart. “I’m fine. Just thinking.” She smiled sweetly at him.

Tormund propped himself up on an elbow next to Brienne. “About what?” He questioned, his finger finding the angle of her jaw.

“Everything.” Brienne smiled lovingly at him.

“Everything?” He teased. “That’s quite a lot.” He pretended to be worried.

Brienne chuckled, rolling onto her side to face him. “About us.” She grinned joyfully. “About how I am the luckiest woman in all the Seven Kingdoms.” She sighed, and nestled closer to him.

“And I am the luckiest man.” Tormund’s lips returned to Brienne’s face. He kissed the slope of her nose to her lips, and lingered there, feasting on the sweetness of her.

They rested in the assurance of each other for a long while. Once they parted, Tormund could still sense Brienne’s solemn mood. He wondered if perhaps she had begun to think of what might have been, with someone else. He was afraid to ask, but he had to know. “Do you ever regret...anything?” He questioned, unable to look into her eyes.

Brienne’s breath choked in her throat. She leaned closer to him, and looked deeply into his eyes. The same eyes that had been her strength all these years. Her mind filled with all they had been together, everything they had created. Their children, their memories, their life, all of it played in her mind and delighted her once more. Brienne smiled warmly at the images she recalled, and at the gaze of the man she adored. She took Tormund’s face gently in her trembling hands.

“The only thing I regret is that I cannot live it all over again.” She declared to him, tears in her eyes.

Brienne understood what he had meant. For the first time in years she pictured Jaime’s face. She saw him once more, naked and kissing her greedily in her chamber at Winterfell. She saw his haunted eyes unable to meet hers on the night that he left her in the freezing courtyard. She watched once more as he stood only paces from where she now lay, when he returned from the dead and had come to claim her. She watched his hurt as he realized she would not go with him. All of it disappeared from her thoughts as she stared deeply into Tormund’s eyes.

Brienne brought herself to hover over Tormund, still holding his face to meet her eyes. She beheld him, and could not believe she had been the one he loved. She thanked the Gods that she had been blessed with loving him. “Listen to me.” She whispered, her hot breath teasing his lips. She swallowed hard, and held him in her stare. She had never been more sincere about anything in her life. “I would not trade one moment that I have been given with you...” She leaned even closer to him. “...for an eternity with anyone else.” Brienne swore to Tormund. “Do you hear me?” She beseeched him. “Anyone!” She repeated. “I love you, and only you.” She breathed. Her mouth found his, and she sealed her proclamation with a passionate kiss.

Tormund wrapped his arms around Brienne, and smiling, laid her back into the pillows. He kissed her as he had always done, as if he were afraid his precious gift would disappear. Brienne thrilled to his touch, and felt her body shiver with need for him, as it always did when he touched her. Tormund sensed her desire, and answered her silent call eagerly. They held tightly to each other, their bodies moving as one. The years they had spent together were now the source of their passion. However, whenever they enjoyed each other like this, it was as if the years melted away and they were perpetually young, and their love always exciting and new. The love they shared never wavered, and never weakened.  
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Tormund saw eighty-seven Namedays. After all the fierceness and fighting with which his life had been filled, it was a fever that felled him in his old age. He had insisted upon accompanying the hunt that year, had fallen sick upon returning, and had not lasted a week after that. Brienne refused to leave his side as his body betrayed him. His eyes never left hers as he took his final breath. Brienne lay holding his body for a full day, before she would let anyone near. She lit his pyre and watched the flames send his soul to the Heavens. After that, Brienne sat next to the remains of her dear husband for three days and nights, refusing to allowing anyone to gather what was left. A fistful of his ashes she clutched close to her heart. Her children watched her with concern. She was never the same.

Brienne lasted not quite a year after Tormund’s death. The healers said she had succumbed to the weakness of old age after a lifetime of battle. Her children knew better. They understood that without her beloved husband, she no longer wished to remain. They knew she had died of a broken heart. Upon her deathbed, as her last breathes left her body, Brienne raised her head and beheld the doorway of the hut she had shared with her family. She smiled, and held out her hand as if to take that of one who was reaching for her. It seemed her true love had come to take her to The Heavens with him. She whispered his name, and then left her legacy to the ages. “Tormund.” Brienne sighed, as she died.  
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Centuries later the Red Keep had become a cold and lifeless museum. The hallways that once held witness to the rise and fall of Westeros’ greatest leaders were now filled with families on vacation, children on school field trips, and tourists taking in the once magnificent castle. The deceit, the drama, and the blood that was once the game played within its corridors had long since dissolved and dried. Cersei’s name had been forgotten to history. All that remained of Jaime Lannister was the entry that Brienne had written of him in the Whitebook. The book had been laid open to his page, frozen under glass on the table in the White Sword Tower. It was a distant part of the castle to which few ventured after a full day of site seeing.

Brienne and Tormund’s bloodline continued to spread and thrive. The love they shared had created a legacy that outlived even the memory of them. Their children for generations became leaders, and innovators. They were always strong, determined, and fearless. The Giantsbane name was widely respected all over Westeros, both North and South. It seemed that those of their blood were always to know the blessings of deep love, and strong family. Somewhere in the frozen wasteland beyond what had once been The Wall, Brienne’s and Tormund’s ashes still clung together, playing on the wind and settling beneath the ice. Their souls enjoyed each other in The Heavens. Their children and descendants conquered the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my readers and subscribers. You really helped me stay excited about this story, and I am very flattered that you enjoyed it. ❤️🥰😊
> 
> Brienne x Tormund 4 Ever!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️


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